THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


4 


Light    Through 
Darkened  Windows 

A  "SHUT-IN"  STORY 


By 

ARABEL  WILBUR  ALEXANDER 

Author  of 
"  Life  and  Work  of  Lucinda  B.  Helm,"  Etc. 


CINCINNATI:     JENNINGS    &    PYE 
NEW    YORK:      EATON     &     MAINS 


COPYRIGHT,  IpOl,  BY 
THE  WESTERN  METH 
ODIST  BOOK  CONCERN 


TO 

THE  MEMORY  OF  A  LOVED  ONE 

WHO  TAUGHT  ME  THAT  EVEN  DEATH 

COULD  BECOME  A  SACRAMENT. 


1661485. 


Must  you  pass  into  a  story  —  a  mere  dream  —  -you, 
who  were  so  real,  so  tangible,  so  perfect  an  exponent 
of  that  which  we  call  Life  ? 


"Like  an  ^Eolian  harp  that  wakes 
No  certain  air,  but  overtakes 
Far  thought  with  music  that  it  makes  : 

Such  seen?  d  a  whisper  at  my  side. 

'  What  is  it  thou  knowest,  strange  voice  ?  '  I  cried. 

'  A  hidden  hope,  '  the  voice  replied  ; 

f  To  feel,  altho1  no  tongue  can  prove, 
That  every  cloud  that  spreads  above 
And  veileth  love,  itself  is  love.'  ' 

—  TENNYSON. 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PAGR 

I.  IN  THE  SHADOWS,  .....         9 

II.  A  LIFE  RESERVED,     .  36 

III.  MINISTRY  OF  LITTLE  CHILDREN,  .         .       62 

IV.  MRS.  MUNSY'S  EXPERIENCE,        .  .  78 
V.  NANNETTE  IN  THE  HOME,        .  .         .107 

VI.  PERFECT  THROUGH  SUFFERING,    .  .          136 

VII.  TURNING  THE  CURVE,     .         .  .         .157 


LIGHT    THROUGH    DARKENED 
WINDOWS 


IN  THE  SHADOWS 

"Is  it  true,  O  Christ  in  Heaven, 

That  the  highest  suffer  most ; 
That  the  strongest  wander  farthest, 

And  most  helplessly  are  lost ; 
That  the  mark  of  rank  in  nature, 

Is  capacity  for  pain  ; 
And  the  anguish  of  the  singer 

Makes  the  sweetness  of  the  strain?" 

AUBURN  PLACE  was  a  large  old  homestead, 
sheltered  by  trees,  and  standing  apart  in  stately 
dignity  from  the  other  houses,  in  a  suburb  of 
one  of  our  Eastern  cities  on  the  Atlantic  coast. 
Situated  on  a  gentle  knoll,  it  commanded  a 
fine  view  of  the  ocean  on  the  north  and  the  east, 

9 


io         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

while  on  the  south  could  be  seen  the  hill  country 
in  the  distance. 

The  place,  consisting  of  a  dozen  acres,  was 
kept  in  perfect  order;  the  sunny  garden  at  the 
south,  with  gnarled  grapevines  clambering  along 
its  walls  and  a  double  row  of  box-bushes  stretch 
ing  down  the  center;  the  evergreens  and  orna 
mental  shrubs  and  large  vases,  with  blooming 
plants,  occupied  the  front  lawn.  Tb  the  east  an 
open  turfy  space,  in  the  center  of  which  stood 
a  large  weeping-willow,  separated  the  house  from 
the  great  brick  barn  with  its  flanking  cribs. 

The  house  was  almost  fifty  years  old.  Its 
massive  walls  were  faced  with  bricks,  to  whiefli 
the  ivy  clung  with  tenacious  feet  wherever  it  was 
allowed  to  run. 

The  gables  terminated  in  broad,  double  chim 
neys,  between  which  a  railed  walk  intended  for 
a  ''lookout,"  but  rarely  used  for  that  or  any 
other  purpose,  rested  on  a  peak  of  the  roof.  A 
low  portico  paved  with  stone  extended  along  the 
front,  which  was  further  shaded  by  two  enor 
mous  sycamore-trees  as  old  as  the  house  itself. 

In  this  home,  which  seemed  a  region  of  peace 


In  the  Shadows  n 

and  beauty  throughout,  there  lay  upon  a  bed  of 
suffering  a  beautiful  and  gifted  young  woman. 
She  had  started  in  life  with  as  fair  hopes  as  ever 
brightened  any  child  of  fortune.  Being  of  a 
wealthy  and  prominent  family,  and  having  many 
personal  attractions,  there  seemed  nothing  lack 
ing  in  life  to  make  her  career  one  of  happy  use 
fulness.  Her  father  was  a  member  of  Congress 
during  two  terms,  and  when  she  was  in  Wash 
ington  with  him  she  was  much  sought  for  in 
society,  having  shortly  before  returned  from  a 
trip  abroad.  Her  superb  voice  had  been  under 
training  there  by  the  best  masters,  and  it  was 
in  the  sphere  of  music,  where  she  shone  so  bril 
liantly,  that  we  first  met.  Our  acquaintance  had 
matured  into  friendship  just  before  the  accident 
that  changed  'the  entire  course  of  her  life. 

We  had  been  horseback-riding  one  morning, 
and  I  thought  I  had  never  before  seen  her  so 
attractive.  It  was  a  lovely  spring  morning — 
the  buds  half  out,  the  wind  blowing  fresh,  and 
the  white  clouds  scudding  across  a  blue  sky. 
She  lo'oked  unusually  fair  in  her  perfect-fitting 
habit  and  hat.  Every  feature  of  her  face  was 


12         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

beaming  with  pleasure  and  animation.  We  were 
waiting  at  the  lawn  gate  for  the  groom,  whom 
we  saw  approaching  from  the  far  end  of  the 
graveled  driveway.  I  noticed  the  reins  were 
loosely  dropped  on  the  white  curved  neck  of  her 
horse,  arid  as  a  steam  street-roller  suddenly  came 
into  view,  where  the  street  was  being  improved 
near  by,  he  shied  and  turned  -half  round.  I  spoke 
to  him,  but  she  only  laughed  a  merry  little  laugh 
as  she  patted  his  arched  neck.  In  an  instant 
more,  as  the  engine  gave  a  shrill  whistle,  he  took 
fright,  and  with  one  wild  leap  threw  her  merci 
lessly  against  the  stone  steps  leading  Up  to  a 
small  iron  gate  that  opened  into  the  front  lawn. 
It  was  all  in  an  instant,  a  mere  caprice  of  the 
horse — her  favorite  horse — but  it  eclipsed  in  a 
moment,  and  forever,  her  brilliant  career.  She 
was  from  that  day  a  cripple — an  invalid. 

The  best  physicians  were  summoned,  and 
every  possible  aid  for  her  recovery  furnished, 
but  to  no  avail.  The  spine  was  incurably 
broken,  and  she  was  destined  to  lie  helpless  upon 
her  bed  for  years.  Her  suffering  was  so  extreme 
at  times,  that  she  felt  the  powers  of  darkness 


In  the  Shadows  13 

must  have  allied  themselves  to  torture  her.  Her 
back,  her  head,  her  entire  body,  seemed  a  living 
pain.  Yet  no  relief  came.  She  was  doomed  to 
live.  With  the  physical  suffering  came  a  change 
in  her  mental  attitude  toward  people,  and 
toward  life  in  general.  She  was  naturally  of  a 
bright  and  vivacious  temperament,  fond  of  the 
society  of  her  friends;  but  now,  when  her  wide 
circle  of  friends  flocked  to  her  service,  she  dis 
missed  them  all.  Rebellion  against  her  lot  in 
tensified  her  pride,  and  made  her  lose  faith  in 
people  and  things.  Her  will,  which  had  always 
before  seemed  pliable,  now  became,  under  this 
extreme  test,  sternly  and  bitterly  set  against  sub 
mission.  She  could  not,  and  would  not,  endure 
her  lot,  and  the  inevitable  "must"  seemed  to 
freeze  out  of  her  heart  all  faith  in  God  and  the 
outcome  of  any  good  in  life.  During  those  years 
I  was  associated  with  her  in  the  closest  and  most 
intimate  friendship.  Before  her  affliction,  the 
world  had  seemed  to  her  a  place  of  beauty.  She 
had  been  very  popular  in  the  circles  in  which  she 
moved,  and  was  betrothed  to  one  of  the  most 
promising  and  elegant  young  men  of  her  ac- 


14         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

quaintance.  But  now  all  joy  had  to  be  resigned. 
She  wrote  to  him  in  a  bitter  spirit,  breaking  off 
her  engagement;  and  she  persisted  in  refusing 
to  see  or  speak  of  him  until  he  finally  left  the 
city,  and  she  never  saw  him  again.  Life  became 
a  mere  existence  to  her.  Sometimes  I  tried  to 
talk  to  her,  and  assure  her  that  a  bright  day 
would  dawn  for  her  and  for  us;  but  doubts  and 
fears  and  rebellion  kept  grumbling  in  her  poor 
heart  like  the  mutter  of  an  earthquake,  until  they 
finally  jarred  every  belief  and  hope  of  her  being 
out  of  place.  Yet  by  her  side  sat  her  patient 
mother,  month  after  month,  bearing  the  double 
grief  of  her  child's  suffering  and  rebellion. 
Many  times  that  mother  looked  on  the  white  face 
and  the  painfully  bright  eyes  of  her  daughter,  for 
whom  she  had  dreamed  such  happy  dreams,  and 
while  her  own  heart  was  breaking,  she  smiled, 
and  soothed  the  sufferer  with  words  of  cheer. 

Three  years  had  now  elapsed  since  she  had 
walked  a  step,  and  she  was  but  twenty-three  years 
of  age,  yet  she  said  she  felt  like  an  "aged  sorrow." 

One  morning  as  I  was  arranging  some  flowers 
in  an  adjoining  room,  her  mother  entered  the 


In  the  Shadows  15 

daughter's  room,  and  found  her  in  a  passion  of 
tears. 

"What  distresses  you,  my  child?"  said  the 
anxious  mother,  as  she  went  up  to  the  bed  and 
sat  down  beside  her.  "Do  not  weep.  It  does 
no  good." 

"For  that  very  reason  I  weep,"  replied  the 
daughter,  quoting  the  words  of  the  ancient  seer : 
"To  think  "that  all  the  prayers  and  tears  of  a 
broken  life  avail  nothing;  that  they  mean  no 
more  to  the  powers  that  be  than  the  idle  winds. 
O,  how  can  you  believe  in  a  God,  who  you  say 
is  all  powerful,  and  yet  who  views  in  calm  seren 
ity  the  awful  tragedies  of  life?  It  all  looks  to  me 
like  a  fearful  mockery." 

"My  child,"  said  her  mother,  "as  I  have  told 
you  before,  you  've  gotten  hold  of  the  wrong 
end  of  things,  and  it  keeps  you  stumbling  back 
wards."  And  quietly  she  stroked  the  aching 
head,  and  kissed  away  the  tears,  until  the  thin 
white  hand  of  the  invalid  stroked  in  turn  the 
patient  face  of  that  unfailing  mother-friend,  and 
she  finally  said: 

"There    is    only    one    thing    good,    mother 


i6         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

dear,  and  that  is  your  love — yes,  I  will  say 
that  is  good.  It 's  the  star  in  my  life  that 
never  sets." 

The  mother  seemed  unusually  thoughtful  as 
she  moved  noiselessly  about  the  sick-room  that 
morning.  I  picked  up  a  book  and  began  reading 
to  myself  as  I  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  bed;  but  I 
noticed  there  was  a  light  in  her  face  that  meant 
triumph,  a  majestic  triumph,  that  made  a  great 
impression  on  me.  Her  invalid  daughter 
watched  her.  She  knew  of  her  mother's  faith, 
her  mother's  unswerving  trust  in  God,  and  as  she 
observed  the  great  peace  that  seemed  to  rest 
upon  and  pervade  her  whole  being  that  morn 
ing,  she  wished  for  the  first  time  that  such  peace 
might  come  to  her. 

Not  long  after  that,  she  had  another  day  of 
excruciating  pain,  and  it  brought  on  the  old 
rebellion  as  usual.  Her  morbidness  always  took 
this  form.  Although  she  was  animated,  and 
conversed  frequently  about  books  and  other  fa 
vorite  themes  when  her  suffering  was  tempo 
rarily  relieved,  and  she  had  what  she  called  a 
"good  day,"  she  invariably  settled  into  cold,  hard 


In  the  Shadows  17 

resistance  against  God  and  her  "fate"  when  her 
suffering  returned. 

As  she  lay  that  morning  with  her  face  toward 
the  wall  in  sad  misery,  she  repeated  audibly  the 
words,  "No  man  careth  for  my  soul." 

"My  child,"  said  her  mother,  as  she  drew  the 
old  easy  leather  chair  up  to  the  bedside  and  sat 
down  in  it,  "there  are  many  people  in  the  world 
who  would  love  you  if  you  would  only  let  them. 
If  you  could  get  your  mind  out  of  this  painful 
state  of  rebellion  into  a  state  of  submission — 
submission  to  the  inevitable,  if  you  want  to  call 
it  so,  but  submission — your  nerves  would  not 
then  be  so  on  edge,  and  you  would  not  suffer  so 
intensely.  Like  a  candle  lit  at  both  ends,  your 
poor  spirit  is  burning  itself  out  with  grief  and 
rebellion." 

"How  do  you  get  around  the  fact,  mother, 
that  if  God  is  all-powerful  he  does  not  mitigate 
our  pain  and  suffering?  We  do  not  bring  these 
things  upon  ourselves,  nor  would  we  choose 
them  for  any  reason." 

"No,  we  do  not  choose  them,"  replied  her 
mother;  "but  it  is  not  God  who  sends  them. 


i8         Light  Through  Darkened  Windozvs 

Physical  pain  is  a  blight  in  his  universe;  yet  he 
will  overcome  it.  He  will  give  the  spirit  strength 
to  rise  above  the  body,  and  will  bring  those  out 
who  resign  themselves  to  him,  and  give  their  suf 
fering  lives  to  him,  better  equipped  for  a  higher 
and  nobler  existence,  than  if  they  had  never  suf 
fered.  I  know  these  days  of  pain  are  hard — 
so  hard  on  you.  You  know  your  mother  feels 
for  you,  but — " 

The  invalid  turned  her  head  away,  and  inter 
rupted  her  mother,  saying: 

"O,  do  n't  say  anything  that  makes  me  weep ! 
I  hate  tears,"  and  she  began  to  go  over  in  bitter 
ness  again,  as  she  'had  done  so  many  times  be 
fore,  what  her  life-plans  had  been,  and  what  she 
might  have  done  in  the  world,  if  her  hopes  had 
not  all  been  shattered,  her  mother  all  the  while 
trying  in  gentlest  love  to  draw  her  away  from 
the  contemplation  of  these  things,  never  once 
revealing  how  the  memory  of  them  was  cut 
ting  deep  into  her  own  heart.  Many  times 
when  alone  she  had  choked  back  the  tears 
as  she  thought  of  this  only  daughter  she 
had  ever  had;  this  beautiful  one  that  had 


In  the  Shadows  19 

entwined  herself,  like  a  golden  wreath,  through 
every  experience  of  twenty-four  years  of  her 
married  life, — all  the  way  up  from  the  sweet  days 
of  childhood  when  her  heart  had  been  as  clear 
and  transparent  as  the  spring  heavens,  as  fresh 
as  the  perfume  of  a  flower,  and  every  wish  of  it 
as  sacred  to  her  mother  as  a  holy  Sabbath  morn 
ing.  But  now  she  was  wasted  and  worn  by  years 
of  pain,  lying  helpless  upon  her  bed.  She  seemed 
a  mere  skeleton  in  body  and  soul  of  what  she 
had  been,  and  was  to  have  been.  And  yet  the 
brave  mother  dared  to  shut  her  eyes  to  what 
seemed  hard  and  harsh,  dared  to  fight  down  the 
appearance  of  things,  and  to  live  the  religion 
embodied  in  the  words  of  Browning: 

"God's  in  his  heaven, 
All's  right  with  the  world." 

She  made  no  complaint.  She  was  the  one  to 
soothe  and  comfort,  not  only  daughter,  but  hus 
band  and  sons. 

One  day  I  prevailed  on  her  to  take  a  ride 
some  miles  in  the  country.  Nannette  was  feeling 
unusually  well  and  talkative,  and  she  and  I  had 


2O         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

a  long  day  together.  I  shall  never  forget  it.  She 
picked  up  a  bunch  of  carnations  her  mother  had 
left  on  the  bed,  and  began  weaving  a  fanciful 
story  about  them,  dividing  the  parts,  assigning 
their  botanical  names,  and  locating  them  in  a 
fairy  world  of  fancy.  Then  she  said,  with  her 
cheeks  glowing: 

"Do  you  know,  Jean,  I  love  to  think  of  the 
great  geniuses  loving  flowers — great  and  small 
things  coming  together;  philosophers  studying 
into  the  mysteries  of  life,  and  then  touching 
gently  a  flower.  What  is  it  Shakespeare  says 
about  something  falling  upon 

'  A  little  western  flower, 
Before  milk-white,  now  purple  with  love' s  wound ; ' 

and  Goethe,  as  he  looked  reverently  at  a  leaf,  said : 
'God  only  could  patent  a  leaf?'  Even  old  Carlyle 
was  almost  as  gentle  as  Wordsworth  about  step 
ping  on  the  daisies  in  the  grass.  These  tiny 
things  great  minds  seem  to  feel  are  sort  of  dumb 
witnesses  for  God;  and  yet  how  pitiful  it  is,  that 
when  they  think  they  have  found  him  in  the 
study  of  nature,  or  of  life  in  any  phase,  they  can 


In  the  Shadows  21 

not  begin  to  tell  who  or  what  they  have  found, 
nor  where  he  is,  and  they  go  out  of  life  at  the 
end,  as  they  come  in  at  the  beginning,  with  an 
unsatisfied  cry!" 

"O,  that  is  the  case  only  with  some  unfortu 
nate  souls !"  I  said. 

"No,  it  is  true  with  everybody,"  she  re 
sponded;  "the  history  of  the  race  is  the  history 
of  sorrow  and  disappointment.  If  there  be  a 
God,  such  as  we  fancy  there  ought  to  be,  he 
certainly  hides  his  face  from  the  dark  pictures 
of  life  on  this  earth.  Poets  are  the  best  inter 
preters  of  the  race,  and  even  the  master-poet, 
Dante,  sang  the  most  plaintive  song  ever  ut 
tered. 

"No  one  could  have  written  the  'Inferno'  ex 
cept  a  genius  who  paid  the  penalty  in  suffering 
which  showed  even  in  the  very  lines  of  his  face, 
so  that  men  pointed  to  him  in  silence,  and  chil 
dren  whispered,  'There  goes  the  man  that  has 
been  in  hell.' 

"If  we  leave  his  'Hell'  and  'Purgatory'  out  of 
the  question,  his  vision  of  the  'Paradise'  leaves 
little  comfort  that  will  stay  with  one,"  and  she 


22  .       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

gave  from  memory  a  selection  from  the  latter 
part  of  the  thirty-third  canto  of  the  'Paradise/ 
in  which  were  these  words : 

"Thenceforward,  what  I  saw 
Was  not  for  words  to  speak,  nor  Memory's  self 
To  stand  against  such  outrage  on  her  skill. 
As  one  who,  from  a  dream  awakened,  straight 
All  he  hath  seen  forgets,  yet  still  retains 
Impressions  of  the  feeling  in  his  dream, — 
E '  en  such  am  I ;  for  all  the  vision  dies, 
As  '  t  were  away ;  and  yet  the  sense  of  sweet, 
That  sprang  from  it,  still  trickles  in  my  heart. 
Thus  in  the  sun-thaw  is  the  snow  unsealed ; 
Thus  in  the  winds,  on  flitting  leaves,  was  lost 
The  sibyl's  sentence." 

As  she  did  so  in  her  fine  voice,  her  beautiful 
eyes  full  of  sympathy  and  her  cheeks  flushed,  she 
reminded  me  of  the  queenly  girl  whose  conversa 
tion  had  charmed  so  many  listeners  years  before. 

"Nannette,"  I  said,  feeling  that  I  must  in 
some  measure  take  a  mother's  oversight  of  her 
that  day,  "I  'm  afraid  it  will  tire  you  to  talk  so 
much,  won't  it?" 

"Do  n't  always  be  afraid  of  things  tiring  me, 
Jean ;  nothing  tires  me  so  much  as  to  lie  still  in 
this  bed.  It 's  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  weariness." 

We  both  smiled,  and  I  went  on :  "Well,  Nan- 


In  the  Shadows  23 

nette,  if  it  does  not  tire  you,  I  will  just  say  that 
I  do  not  see  where  the  force  and  beauty  of  any 
of  the  'Divine  Comedy'  lies,  if  it  is  not  founded 
on  the  truth.  If  we  did  not  feel  that  somehow 
Dante's  vision  was  the  outgrowth  of  faith  in  a 
veritable  God,  who  lives  and  rules  and  will  event 
ually  triumph,  it  would  mean  nothing  to  us. 
What  is  false  or  merely  fanciful  can  not  make 
itself  felt  as  truth  can;  and  you  take  away  the 
correlation  of  these  flights  of  genius  to  truth, 
and  the  life  is  gone;  they  mean  no  more  to  the 
world  than  sounding  brass." 

"Well,"  she  replied,  "you  must  remember  that 
truth  is  a  relative  term,  and  means  just  what  we 
make  it  mean.  What  is  truth  to  some,  is  quite 
far  from  it  to  others." 

"No,  there  must  be  absolute  truth"  I  insisted ; 
"the  difficulty  comes  in  our  not  becoming  prop 
erly  adjusted  to  it.  The  greatest  geniuses  unite 
in  attributing  many  qualities  to  the  "Abso 
lute." 

"O,  the  Absolute !"  she  said,  evasively.  "Em 
erson  about  expressed  it  when  he  said:  'Life  is 
a  pitching  of  a  penny ;  heads  or  tails.  We  never 


34        Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

tire  of  the  game  because  there  is  always  a  slight 
shudder  of  astonishment  at  the  exhibition,  of  the 
other  face.  This  heads  and  tails  is1  called  in  the 
language  of  philosophy,  "Infinite  and  Finite," 
"Relative  and  Absolute,"  "Apparent  and  Real," 
and  many  other  such  fine  names.' ' 

"Now,  Nannette,  if  you  are  going  to  be  a  dis 
ciple  of  Emerson,"  I  protested,  "you  will  have 
to  stop  even  feeling  the  least  complaint  about 
your  lot.  You  will  have  to  be  as  calm  and  serene 
and  undisturbed  as  the  cloudlets  above  you. 
His  is  the  philosophy  of  tranquillity !  You  know 
he  says  it  is  impossible  for  real  character  to  be 
'displaced'  or  'overset.' ' 

"Well,  I  know  his  philosophy  did  not  take 
us  poor  invalids  into  account.  No  philosophy 
does.  We  are  out  of  joint  with  the  universe." 

"Pshaw,  dear,  let 's  change  the  subject,  and 
have  a  game  of  chess.  I  am  going  to  get  you 
a  glass  of  lemon-ice,  and  we  will  have  a  quiet 
game." 

And  with  that  we  played  chess  the  rest  of  the 
morning.  Many  times  we  beguiled  the  hours 
in  this  way,  and  yet  we  always  felt  her  mother's 


In  the  Shadows  25 

absence.  There  was  something  in  her  mother's 
spirit  that  seemed  to  m'ake  up  and  round  out 
what  was  lacking  in  ours,  and  without  that 
mother,  who  was  living  on  the  heights  where 
we  both  should  have  been  living  and  growing, 
an  indefinable  something  seemed  to  be  sorely 
wanting. 

Mrs.  Huntington's  ride  in  the  country  that 
morning  did  not  ward  off  a  short  illness,  and 
during  that  illness  Nannette  scarcely  spoke  a 
word,  and  looked  anxiously  about  at  the  sound 
of  every  footstep  to  get  a  glimpse  of  her 
mother.  When  she  was  restored  to  health  and 
service  again,  the  daughter  looked  upon  her  as 
;her  living,  moving  inspiration.  One  day  she 
said  to  her: 

"Mother,  when  I  awaken,  the  consciousness 
of  your  love  is  like  a  morning  benediction  to 
me.  I  want  to  thank  you  for  it  continually." 

Her  mother  stooped  and  kissed  her  forehead, 
and  as  she  kept  her  hand  resting  a  while  on  the 
head  of  her  first-born,  she  said:  "If  a  creature 
can  love  thus,  daughter,  how  much  more  its 
archetype!  If  a  mother  is  self-sacrificing  in  her 


26         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

love,  what  about  the  infinite  Sacrificer  and  Sac 
rifice?" 

Her  daughter  made  no  reply,  and  the  mother 
said  nothing  further ;  but  the  one  consuming  de 
sire  of  her  heart  was  to  lead  her  child  to  Christ. 

A  circumstance  which  she  regarded  as  provi 
dential  was  the  coming  to  Auburn  Place  of  a 
friend  Who  was  on  her  way  to  New  York  to 
undergo  a  surgical  operation  which  miglit  in 
volve  her  life.  This  friend  was  young  and  a  de 
voted  Christian.  During  the  entire  visit,  so 
serene  was  her  faith  and  trust,  and  so  uncom 
plaining  were  her  lips,  that  it  made  an  abiding 
impression  on  Nannette. 

One  evening  during  her  stay,  the  pastor  of 
the  Church  of  which  Nannette's  mother  was  a 
member  called,  and  at  the  close  of  his  call  made 
an  impressive  prayer  with  direct  reference  to 
Nannette,  praying  that  she  might  also  learn  the 
secret  of  abiding  peace.  She  seemed  moved  by 
it;  and  that  night,  as  her  mother,  after  a  long 
talk  with  her,  left  the  room  when  she  knew  it 
was  time  for  fhe  invalid  to  rest,  she  felt  assured 
that  a  new  day  was  beginning  to  dawn  for  her 


In  the  Shadows  27 

child.  Not  that  there  was  any  sudden  submis 
sion  or  breaking-down  of  Nannette's  tenacious 
will,  but  there  was  a  certain  gentleness,  a  cer 
tain  interest  in  her  mother's  words,  that  spoke 
hope  to  that  long-waiting  heart,  as  light  on  the 
loneliest  mountain  peak  brings  sure  promise  of 
the  coming  day.  The  morning  after  their  friend 
had  gone,  Nannette  said  to  me : 

"Jean,  I  never  realized  before  that  for  one 
to  know  anything  about  the  nature  of  God,  it  is 
necessary,  not  only  to  believe  in  his  existence, 
but  in  the  graciousness  of  his  character.  That 
must  be  taken  as  a  starting-point,  Miss  Mason 
says." 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "to  be  able  to  take  the  first 
step  in  the  study  of  anything  or  anybody  you 
know  a  certain  amount  of  faith  is  required." 

After  a  pause  she  went  on :  "I  'm  afraid  I  Ve 
been  a  good  deal  like  the  man  in  the  parable 
mother  read,  who  thought  his  lord  a  hard 
master,  reaping  where  he  had  not  sown;  and 
have  kept  my  mind  pinned  to  that,  wholly 
unconscious  of  a  great  lesson  that  I  am  now 
beginning  to  learn — a  lesson  that  seems  to  be 


28         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

taught  in  all  law,  both  natural  and  divine,  that 
each  creature  must  weave  from  its  own  breast 
its  destiny,  and  that  we  are  not  machines  to  be 
moved  about,  even  by  the  hand  of  God." 

I  opened  my  Bible  that  had  been  lying  on  the 
stand  near  me  to  the  ninth  chapter  of  St.  Mark, 
and  said,  "I  was  just  reading  this  incident  about 
faith  this  morning,  and  will  read  it  to  you." 

I  then  read  the  familiar  passage  of  the  heal 
ing  of  the  demonized  child,  and  added:  "T^his 
is  a  wonderful  message,  is  n't  it? — 'If  thou  canst 
believe,  all  things  are  possible  to  him  that  be- 
lieveth" 

After  a  pause,  Nannette  answered:  "Well, 
what  does  that  mean?  How  can  the  mind  be 
lieve  in  such  a  way  as  to  insure  any  such  power?" 

Her  mother,  entering  the  room  as  she  asked 
the  question,  answered:  "Nannette,  every  con 
dition  required  by  our  Heavenly  Father  of  a  hu 
man  soul  lies  in  the  power  of  that  human  will." 

"How?"  asked  Nannette. 

"It  is  one  of  the  great  truths  of  the  spirit-life 
that  the  will  of  man  can  command  God.  Of 
course,  this  could  not  be  true,  if  God  did  not  will 


In  the  Shadows  29 

the  sovereignty  of  the  human  will;  but  he  has 
given  to  man  the  power  to  accept,  or  to  reject 
and  deny  him,  with  the  eternal  consequences. 
Therefore,  if  you  will  to  be  his,  and  throw  over 
on  that  side  the  whole  strength  and  power  of 
your  being,  the  thing  is  settled,  and  you  and 
God  have  met.  Then  he  can  open  your  eyes, 
and  lead  you  into  the  knowledge  of  spiritual 
truth." 

"Well,  mother,"  replied  her  daughter, 
thoughtfully,  "I  feel  an  honest  desire  to  know 
about  these  things.  I  feel  it  lately  more  and 
more.  I  am  unspeakably  tired  of  myself  and 
everybody  like  me ;  but  there  is  so  much  mystery 
connected  with  it  all." 

"Yes,"  said  her  mother;  "but  everything  in 
life  is  mysterious.  We  are  shrouded  in  mys 
teries  on  all  sides,  but  you  will  find  out,  my  child, 
that  Christ  is  the  only  solution  to  the  mysteries 
of  life." 

A  few  days  after  this  s'he  said  to  me:  "Jean, 
I  'm  going  to  settle  this  matter.  It  haunts  me 
day  and  night.  I  have  not  been  fair  and  honest 
in  my  dealings  with  these  religious  questions. 


30        Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

I  've  tried  to  get  around  them,  all  these  years, 
because  I  did  not  want  to  believe  in  Christ.  I 
have  been  full  of  rebellion,  and  wanted  nothing 
to  do  with  any  Power  that  professes  to  be  om 
nipotent  and  yet  has  charge  of  this  suffering 
world.  But  I  will,  I  must,  get  down  a  little 
from  my  throne  of  judgment,  and  see  if  it  will 
not  alter  my  perspective.  All  the  time  Miss  Ma 
son  was  here,  I  felt  especially  ashamed  of  my 
irritability  and  stubbornness.  The  very  fact  of 
her  facing  that  operation  as  she  did  was  a  con 
stant  rebuke  to  me.  Where  does  she  get  such 
strength?  How  can  she  be  so  serene?" 

"Well,"  I  responded,  "you  know  George 
Eliot  says,  'To  become  great  and  admirable, 
one  must  give  up  thinking  about  one's  pleasure, 
and  by  self-mastery  get  strength  to  endure  what 
is  hard  and  painful.' ' 

"Yes,  but  that  is  stoicism.  Miss  Mason's  life 
is  not  like  that.  She  is  not  insensible.  You 
can  tell  that  from  the  light  in  her  face.  I  do  n't 
believe  really  that  George  Eliot,  or  any  other 
of  those  so-called  'humanitarians,'  who  profess 
to  have  exhausted  Christianity  in  their  youth, 


ever  really  knew  what  it  is.  They  had  nothing 
but  the  semblance  of  it." 

"Well,  that  may  be  true,"  I  replied;  "they 
knew  only  the  external  aspects  of  it." 

"And  yet,"  she  went  on,  "now  that  we  think 
of  it,  in  George  Eliot's  best  characters,  all  the 
power  and  beauty  of  their  lives  are  drawn  from 
that  very  religion  which  she  professes  to  have 
outgrown  and  exhausted.  Sometimes  I  have 
thought  since  we  have  been  reading  this  last 
book,  Theophrastus  Such/  that  she  has  influ 
enced  me  too  much,  and  so  has  John  Stuart 
Mill.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  carried  through 
every  phase  of  doubt.  But  I  am  beginning  to 
see  that  there  is  a  philosophy  higher  and  sweeter, 
and,  I  believe  now,  truer,  than  any  of  them  ever 
had." 

"I  am  so  rejoiced  to  know  it,  dear !"  I  replied. 
"I  believe  everything  in  our  lives  is  going  to  be 
different." 

Not  long  after  this  conversation,  she  had 
several  days  of  extreme  pain,  and  was  much 
exhausted  by  it ;  yet  for  the  first  time  she  made 
no  complaint.  It  was  exceedingly  pathetic  and 


32         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

beautiful  to  see  her  struggling,  as  it  were,  for 
the  light,  and  refusing  to  harbor  dark  thoughts. 

"Mother,"  she  said  one  night,  after  a  day  of 
extreme  forbearance,  "I  do  see  the  possibility 
of  Christ  and  forgiveness  and  a  new  life;  but  it 
comes  in  flashes.  There  is  no  steady  light." 

The  mother  fell  on  her  knees  by  her  daugh 
ter's  bedside,  and  was  trembling  with  emotion. 
I  had  never  seen  her  so  moved  before. 

"O  my  darling!"  she  whispered,  passionately, 
"you  see  'men  as  trees  walking.'  Christ  will 
touch  you  again." 

And  truly  he  did.  The  whole  horizon  of  Nan- 
nette's  existence  became  changed.  It  gradually 
dawned  upon  her,  like  a  great  sunrise,  that  she 
was  neither  shut  out  of  life's  love,  nor  its  joys,  by 
her  bed  of  pain.  She  gave  herself  unreservedly — 
soul,  mind,  and  body — to  Christ,  and  was  en 
abled  to  believe  that  he  accepted  her  as  his  own. 
She  stopped  trying  to  question.  She  did  not 
even  wonder  whether  she  could  rest  in  this 
strange  new  love  forever.  She  only  felt  that 
she  rested.  It  was  like  a  new  baptism  to  her. 
From  that  time  on,  having  her  strong  will  now 


In  the  Shadows  33 

turned  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  possessing 
an  unusual  freshness  of  mind,  she  seemed  con 
stantly  on  the  advance  in  the  Christian  life.  As 
the  scientist  finds,  in  his  pursuits,  new  discover 
ies  in  old  thing's  that  lend  perpetual  charm  to 
his  studies,  so  the  Bible  became  like  a  new  book 
to  her,  and  she  kept  it  near  her  all  the  time. 

"O  Jean,"  she  said,  one  day,  her  beautiful 
face  beaming  with  joy,  "how  plain  and  easy  it 
is  now  to  see  love  ruling  even  in  pain!  I 
understand  now  What  is  meant  by  the  sin  of 
unbelief." 

"But  you  know  He  says,  Nannette,  he  sepa 
rates  our  sins  from  us  'as  far  as  the  east  is  from 
the  west.' " 

"I  trust  so,"  she  replied,  reverently;  and  as 
the  tears  filled  her  eyes,  she  Whispered,  "My  in 
finite  Lord !" 

From  that  time  I  knew  the  Master  had  con 
quered  in  the  battle  for  the  city  of  a  human  soul. 

Her  home  became  transformed.  Even  her 
father  and  brothers,  who  were  men  of  more  po 
litical  than  religious  prominence,  recognized  the 
change,  and  her  mother's  joy  knew  no  bounds. 


34         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

For  three  years  the  mother  and  daughter 
climbed  the  heights  together.  During  these 
years,  Nannette's  body  began  to  take  upon  itself 
a  strange  new  strength.  We  had  not  anticipated 
that,  but  it,  too,  came  in  a  most  unaccountable 
way.  Who  can  explain  the  subtle  influence  of 
mind  over  matter?  Facts  stare  us  in  the  face, 
and  we  feel  constrained  to  theorize  about  them, 
until  frequently  we  get  tangled  up  as  in  a  thicket, 
and  come  out  with  many  scratches,  but  no  fruit. 

Nannette  did  not  attempt  to  explain  how  it 
was  that  her  body  became  stronger  and  freer 
from  pain.  She  only  rejoiced  in  the  fact,  and 
accepted  it  as  a  great  boon  from  the  God  she 
•had  now  learned  to  worship.  Before  the  end 
of  those  three  years,  which  closed  an  epoch  in 
her  life,  she  was  able  to  leave  her  bed  and  move 
herself  about  in  an  invalid's  chair.  She  never 
walked,  and  there  remained  always  a  deformity 
of  the  spine,  but  it  was  almost  entirely  concealed 
by  her  method  of  dress.  At  times  severe  suffer 
ing  came  again,  but  it  was  like  the  passing  of  a 
whirlwind,  and  she  remained  still  and  fearless 
until  it  was  past,  and  then  went  on  again,  hand 


In  the  Shadows  35 

in  hand  with  her  strong,  saintly  mother.  I  have 
heard  her  refer  to  those  years  as  the  sweetest 
in  her  life.  At  their  close,  her  mother  was 
called  up  higher,  and  although  we  felt  that 
God  had  withdrawn  from  us  the  purest  repre 
sentative  of  his  grace  we  had  ever  known,  we 
could  not  long  weep  and  mourn  for  very  eager 
ness  to  obey  her  parting  message,  to  fit  ourselves 
to  carry  on  the  charitable  work  which  she  had 
been  called  to  lay  down. 

We  had  l-earned  lessons  from  "her  life  th&t 
no  preaching,  or  book  lore,  could  teach  us; 
and  we,  like  her,  became  anxious  for  the  salva 
tion  of  others.  After  the  death  of  Nannette's 
mother  she  and  I  became  even  more  closely 
intimate  than  before.  I,  too,  had  lost  my  mo 
ther,  and  we  were  standing,  as  it  were,  hand 
in  hand,  in  the  noontide  of  life,  with  our  feet 
firmly  fixed  on  the  Rock  of  Ages,  and  our  hearts 
filled  with  desire  for  God  only  and  his  service. 


Chapter  n 

A  LIFE  RESERVED 

"  I  have  done  at  length  with  dreaming; 

Henceforth,  O  thou  soul  of  mine! 
Thou  must  take  up  sword  and  gauntlet, 

Waging  warfare  most  divine. 
Life  is  struggle,  combat,  victory, 

Wherefore  have  I  struggled  on 
With  my  forces  all  unmarshaled, 

With  my  weapons  all  undrawn. 
O,  how  many  a  glorious  record 

Had  the  angels  of  me  kept, 
Had  I  done  instead  of  doubted, 

Had  I  warred  instead  of  wept! 
Yet  my  soul,  look  not  behind  thee, 

Thou  hast  work  to  do  at  last ; 
Let  the  brave  toil  of  the  present, 

Overarch  the  crumbling  past. 
Build  thy  brave  acts  high  and  higher, 

Euild  them  on  the  conquered  sod, 
Where  thy  failures  first  fell  bleeding, 

And  thy  first  prayer  rose  to  God." 

THE  memory  of  Nannette's  bitter  sufferings 
seemed  now  to  spur  her  onward  in  the  Chris 
tian  life.  I  never  knew  one  to  make  such 
progress  as  did  she  in  the  knowledge  and 

36 


A  Life  Reserved  37 

experience  of  Divine  things.  Peace  with  one's 
self  and  with  one's  God  lends  the  soul  wings. 
Her  eager  nature  went  out  more  and  more 
to  meet  and  absorb  into  itself  the  beauty 
and  meaning  of  the  new  revelation.  She  said 
one  night:  "When  I  think  of  the  years  I 
spent  in  doubt  and  rebellion,  and  of  the  great 
light  and  love  that  fill  my  soul  now,  it  gives 
me  an  intense  desire  to  tell  others  what  God 
can  do  for  a  human  being.  I  am  sure  he  has 
known  me  from  the  beginning,  and  while  I  was 
drawing  my  spirit  downward  and  inward  until 
I  could  realize  but  one  thing,  the  hardness  of 
my  lot,  he  was  using  every  means  to  bring  me 
to  himself;  and  now  that  he  is  mine — O  won 
drous  thought! — and  I  am  his,  what  can  I  do 
but  tell  it?  I  feel  that  it  is  a  discovery  I  must 
make  known." 

In  the  years  that  followed,  she  never  wavered 
in  her  convictions  of  the  truth.  The  reality  of 
the  Fatherhood  of  God  became  to  her  an  estab 
lished  fact  in  her  own  personal  experience.  At 
one  time  during  her  Christian  life  she  was  threat 
ened  with  a  return  of  her  former  physical  suffer- 


38         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

ing.  Physicians  told  her  that  unless  she  under 
went  a  surgical  operation  she  would  soon  be 
come  bedridden  again.  She  had  no  reason  to 
believe  that  their  statement  would  prove  false, 
and  yet  she  was  perfectly  resigned.  When  I 
went  to  her,  anxious  and  questioning,  she 
said:  "Jean,  if  I  may  quote  the  words  of  my 
blessed  Lord,  'The  cup  that  my  Father  hath 
given  me,  shall  I  not  drink  it?'  If  he  wants  me 
to  return  to  my  bed  of  suffering,  I  hope  I  can 
show  him  this  time  something  of  what  his  love 
has  taught  me." 

Although  she  decided  not  to  submit  to  sur 
gical  treatment,  there  was  no  protracted  return 
of  her  trouble;  and  even  when  the  rest  of  us 
were  filled  with  anxiety  and  fear,  her  spirit  re 
mained  perfectly  calm  and  undaunted.  To  see 
her  continued  and  peaceful  resignation  re 
minded  one  of  Schiller's  words:  "Suffering  is 
short.  Joy  is  endless."  She  seemed  always  on 
the  heights,  her  spirit  fearless,  and  perhaps 
stronger  than  if  she  had  never  known  rebellion. 

Slowly  she  began  to  enter  into  relations  with 
the  great  world  that  she  had  so  long  deserted, 


A  Life  Reserved  39 

with  the  mistaken  view  that  it  had  deserted  her. 
Old  acquaintances  whispered  among  themselves : 
"How  beautiful  she  has  grown!  So  like  her 
mother!" 

One  morning  I  entered  her  room.  She  had 
opened  the  window  to  let  in  the  fresh  morning 
air  and  the  smell  of  sweetbrier.  The  bright, 
low,  slanting  rays  of  the  early  sun  made  a  glory 
about  her  pale  face  and  dark  hair  as  she  rolled 
her  chair  about  the  room,  busying  herself,  and 
singing  in  a  low  voice,  like  a  sweet  summer  mur 
mur,  one  of  Newman's  hymns : 

"So  long  Thy  power  hath  blest  me,  sure  it  still 

Will  lead  me  on, 
O'er  moor  and  fen,  o'er  crag  and  torrent,  till 

The  night  is  gone ; 

And  with  the  morn  those  angel  faces  smile, 
Which  I  have  loved  long  since,  and  lost  a  while." 

"Jean,"  she  said,  "for  the  rest  of  my  life  I 
wish  I  could  be  carrying  a  message  of  comfort 
and  love  to  some  lonely  heart  somewhere  every 
day." 

And  her  wish  was  happily  realized;  for,  al 
though  her  outside  Christian  work  did  not  begin 
for  some  time  after  this,  she  made  such  a  beau- 


40        Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

tiful  atmosphere  about  her  home  that  every  one 
within  felt  the  influence,  and  all  the  powers  of 
her  strong  intellect  were  now  turned  into  new 
channels.  Instead  of  poring  over  philosophies 
and  books  of  fiction  that  gave  no  hope  of  a 
higher  life  beyond,  as  she  had  done  in  former 
years,  she  now  studied  her  Bible  and  the  biogra 
phies  of  eminent  Christians,  and  with  a  certain 
bravery  she  dared  shut  out  all  forms  of  doubt  and 
speculation  that  she  knew  would  compromise 
her  spirit  in  its  high  outreachings  after  God. 
The  result  was,  she  grew  so  strong  and  beautiful 
in  spirit  that  it  was  an  inspiration  to  be  near 
her.  My  ideals  of  life  and  love  became  very 
different  during  those  'beautiful  years  when  I 
was  so  much  alone  with  Tier.  Never  before  had 
I  realized  the  power  and  meaning  of  love — love 
that  was  a  sacrifice,  and  not  a  longing;  love 
that  said,  "I  must  love  thee,"  and  not,  "Wilt 
thoulove  me?" 

How  strong  in  soul  were  we  together  as  we 
read  and  studied  in  that  dear  old  home !  Every 
room,  every  surrounding,  lives  with  me  still, 
now  that  I  see  them  no  more — that  terrace  in 


A  Life  Reserved  41 

the  sun,  that  room  with  the  white  clematis  climb 
ing  over  the  bay  window,  near  which  we  worked 
and  studied,  with  the  soft  breezes  bringing  to 
us  the  freshness  and  music  of  the  waters. 

She  seemed  peculiarly  fitted  to  bless  me, 
and  in  fact  every  one  else  with  whom  she  came 
in  contact;  for  her  soul  had  now  struck  anchor 
so  deep  that  one  felt  instinctively  the  wisdom 
belonging  to  such  strength.  Everything  she 
touched  responded  to  her  in  love  and  thankful 
ness.  Even  the  flowers  bloomed  more  beauti 
fully  for  her,  and  the  dumb  animals  waited  on 
the  sound  of  her  voice. 

As  she  grew  stronger,  we  began  to  form 
plans  to  carry  on  the  Christian  work  that  had 
been  so  dear  to  her  mother. 

"God  is  giving  me  back  my  strength  for 
some  purpose,"  she  said,  "and  I  must  be  doing 
something  to  make  up  for  lost  time.  Not  that 
I  have  grown  so  wise  in  the  great  study  of  the 
Son  of  man.  I  feel  like  a  little  child  who  has 
but  just  touched  the  border  of  his  garment;  yet 
if  we  will  give  out  and  become  emptied  vessels, 
I  believe  he  will  fill  us  more  and  more,  Jean, 


42         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

and  I  long  to  be  filled  with  him.  I  never  knew 
the  possibilities  of  life  before.  It  is  quite  a  new 
world  since  we  have  entered  the  kingdom, 
is  n't  it?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied;  "I  was  reading  this  morn 
ing  a  passage  in  Robertson  about  Christian  work 
that  was  good;"  and  I  opened  a  volume  of  his 
"Sermons"  that  had  become  almost  a  text-book 
with  us,  and  read :  "We  were  sent  into  this  world 
to  love  God  and  to  love  man;  to  do  good,  to 
fill  up  life  with  deeds  of  gene'rosity  and  useful 
ness  ;  and  any  one  who  refuses  to  work  out  that 
high  destiny  is  degraded.  Thanks  to  our  God 
for  giving  us  his  work  to  carry  on;  and  when 
this  disappointing  world  has  ceased  to  charm, 
when  the  heart  begins  to  feel  the  hollowness 
of  it,  all  is  not  gone  if  Christ  remains  to  still, 
to  teach,  and  to  soothe  a  heart  which  sin  had 
fevered." 

Nannette's  mother  had  always  been  deeply 
interested  in  missionary  work,  and  not  long  be 
fore  her  death  sfhe  had  established  a  mission 
near  a  large  paper  factory  in  a  neglected  part 

of  the  city,  and  left  a  considerable  sum  of  money 

0 


A  Life  Reserved  43 

to  advance  the  work  there.  Mr.  Snyder,  the 
leader,  she  had  herself  employed  at  a  fixed 
salary,  as  he  was  a  man  of  much  energy  and 
consecration  of  character.  The  mission  had 
now  grown  to  large  proportions,  and  was  known 
as  East  Street  Mission.  It  was  about  five  miles 
from  Auburn  Place;  but  as  Nannette  had  be 
come  sufficiently  strong  to  ride  in  her  carriage, 
we  went  there  every  Sunday  afternoon,  and  she 
sang  for  them,  her  rich  voice  not  having  gone 
with  the  years  of  seclusion.  One  Sunday  she 
sang  an  arrangement  of  "Rock  of  Ages,"  and 
the  entire  congregation  sat  as  if  spellbound 
under  the  inspiration  of  her  voice  and  presence. 
She  had  such  a  simple,  gracious  manner,  and 
was  so  eager  to  bless  the  needy  ones  there,  that 
they  were  all  drawn  toward  her  in  a  sort  of  wor 
shipful  admiration.  It  was  a  touching  sight  to 
see  the  strong  workmen  waiting  to  meet  her 
carriage  every  time  with  a  rolling-chair,  ready 
to  assist  her  to  the  rooms. 

Mr.  Snyder  insisted  that  she  sometimes 
give  talks  to  the  young  men  and  women 
who  attended  the  mission,  which  she  did. 


44        Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

This  was  not  the  only  work  undertaken  by 
her,  although  she  had  much  difficulty  in  per 
suading  her  father  to  consent  to  her  doing 
any  Christian  work.  Occasionally  we  rode 
to  the  Methodist  Hospital,  and  spent  a  half 
day,  and  on  one  afternoon  of  each  week  she 
gave  a  Bible-reading  at  her  home.  Christian 
workers,  mission  teachers,  and  others,  were 
present  at  these  Bible-readings.  She  gave  espe 
cial  invitations  to  invalids  to  attend  them;  and 
as  many  did  so  in  their  invalid  chairs,  we  fre 
quently  laid  out  plans  of  work  for  these  after 
the  Bible-reading  closed,  that  proved  to  be  both 
interesting  and  profitable  to  the  "shut-in"  ones. 
Her  heart  went  out  with  great  warmth  of 
feeling  to  those  who  were  excluded  from  the 
active  avenues  of  life.  She  knew  from  her  own 
experience  the  dreariness  of  one  set  apart  to  be 
served.  And  thus  everything  she  could  find 
that  gave  suggestions  of  pleasant  and  easy  occu 
pations  for  the  "sihut-in"  was  brought  up  and 
discussed  after  the  meetings,  and  the  sweet  spirit 
of  self-forgetfulness  in  the  service  of  others  was 
engendered  and  cultivated  in  many  hearts. 


A  Life  Reserved  45 

We  took  a  little  magazine  at  that  time 
issued  in  the  interest  of  the  Shut-in  Society, 
called  The  Open  Window.  It  is  still  published 
in  New  York,  and  furnishes  beautiful  reading 
matter  for  the  shut-in.  Letters  are  published 
in  it  each  month  by  members  of  the  Shut-in 
Band,  not  only  giving  experiences  of  tri 
umphant  faith  and  hope,  but  speaking  of 
various  occupations  engaged  in  by  different 
ones.  At  the  meetings  Nannette  frequently 
had  selections  read  from  this  magazine.  In 
one  letter,  suggestions  were  given  about  the 
making  of  scrap-books.  Nannette  had  made  a 
little  book  herself.  It  was  very  dainty,  contain 
ing  a  number  of  choice  poems  neatly  pasted  on 
blank  pages,  with  flower  designs  sketched  about 
the  poems.  The  cover  was  also  home-made, 
consisting  of  heavy  paper  tied  with  lavender  rib 
bon,  upon  which  was  painted  a  bunch  of  violets. 
She  showed  this  to  those  present,  and  offered 
to  assist  any  of  them  to  make  similar  ones.  An 
invalid  who  was  a  regular  attendant  upon  the 
Bible-readings  used  to  knit  mittens  and  woolen 
hose,  and  send  them  to  charitable  institutions  for 


46        Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

free  distribution,  the  money  for  the  wool  being 
furnished  from  our  collection-box  at  the  meet 
ings.  There  were  free-will  offerings  at  each 
service,  and  the  proceeds  went  toward  buying 
material  for  them  with  which  to  work.  Many 
gift-books  and  ribbon  bookmarks  were  made 
by  invalids,  containing  verses  of  Scripture. 
Others  made  and  sold  paper  flowers,  and  used 
the  proceeds  received  in  doing  mission  work. 

One  of  the  most  fruitful  occupations  for 
the  shut-in  was  the  care  of  plants.  From 
the  lowly  cottage,  where  the  invalid  could  tend 
but  a  few  plants,  to  the  luxuriant  home,  where 
the  choicest  exotics  were  nurtured  by  more 
favored  ones,  these  blossoms  were  made,  to 
lonely  hearts,  a  perpetual  shower  of  blessing, 
both  in  summer  and  winter. 

Sometimes,  at  these  meetings,  bits  of  infor 
mation  culled  from  papers  and  magazines  were 
given  about  invalids  studying  designing,  clay 
modeling,  etc.  We  frequently  had  copies  of 
the  New  York  Tribune,  from  which  selections 
were  read  in  the  column  for  the  shut-in. 

Nannette  had  become  an  ardent  student  of 


A  Life  Reserved  47 

human  nature,  and  had  developed  such  powers 
of  leadership  through  her  Bible-readings  and 
mission  work  that,  as  in  former  years  she  had 
been  sought  for  in  circles  of  society,  she  now 
became  sought  for  to  take  positions  of  promi 
nence  and  responsibility  in  Christian  work. 

She  and  I  were  both  members  of  the  Church 
of  which  her  mother  had  been  a  member  for 
many  years ;  and  the  pastor  had  frequently  spent 
a  delightful  evening  at  Auburn  Place.  At  his 
suggestion,  she  gave  a  Bible-reading  one  Thurs 
day  afternoon  on  "Faith,"  and  after  it  told 
something  of  her  own  experience  that  made  a 
deep  impression  on  her  hearers.  I  remember  it 
was  gloomy  outside  that  day,  gray  and  chill, 
but  within  the  pleasant  parlors,  with  their  grate- 
fires  and  handsome  furniture  and  draperies, 
everything  looked  cheerful,  and  gave  one  a  sense 
of  rest.  Notwithstanding  the  dreariness  outside, 
a  goodly  number  was  present,  among  whom  was 
an  invalid  girl,  rolled  there  by  her  father,  who 
was  very  poor.  They  two  were  quite  alone  in 
the  world.  This  was  the  first  of  the  Bible-read 
ings  they  had  attended,  and  Nannette  paid  espe- 


48         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

cial  attention  to  them.  She  read,  that  afternoon, 
from  Matt,  xv,  21-28,  and  Mark  vii,  24-30,  giv 
ing  an  account  of  the  remarkable  faith  of  the 
Syrophcenician  woman.  After  the  vivid  picture 
she  gave  of  the  Greek  woman  of  Canaan  meet 
ing  the  One  who  was  not  only  the  God  of  the 
Jews,  but  of  the  entire  human  race,  she  said: 
"There  are  some  phases  of  this  woman's  faith 
that  contain  a  lesson  to  be  found  nowhere  else 
in  gospel  history.  She  comes  to  Christ  with 
a  great,  throbbing  desire  for  the  healing  of  her 
child.  Hopeless  and  alone  the  child  has  been 
left  at  home,  and  with  a  determinate  purpose 
that  mother  approaches  the  Lord,  believing  that 
he,  and  he  alone,  has  power  to  help  her  and 
bring  salvation  to  her  home.  So  entirely  has 
her  daughter's  misery  become  her  own  that 
she  asks  the  boon  for  herself.  'Have  mercy  on 
me,  O  Lord,  thou  Son  of  David!  My  daughter 
is  grievously  vexed  with  a  devil/  But  he  makes 
no  response  to  her.  She  finds  him  apparently 
cold  and  unconcerned,  'answering  her  not  a 
word.'  She  feels  his  silence  keenly,  but  still 
she  follows  hard  after  'him,  Vailing'  in  the 


A  Life  Reserved  49 

streets.  She  must  have  his  attention.  He  must 
hear  her.  Her  very  life  depends  on  it.  What 
matters  the  insolent  curiosity  of  bystanders? 
What  matters  it  if  she  does  attract  a  crowd? 
Her  soul  is  concerned  with  the  one  burning  de 
sire  to  save  her  child,  and  she  has  not  the  faint 
est  intention  of  drawing  back.  The  disciples, 
becoming  wearied  by  her,  come  close  to  the 
Master,  and  beseech  him  to  send  her  away. 
Grant  her  request,  if  right,  but  send  her  away; 
'for  she  crieth  after  us/  They  meet,  however, 
with  no  more  encouragement  than  the  suppliant 
herself.  Christ  speaks  words  'that  appear  to  set 
the  seal  of  hopelessness  on  her  suit,  'I  am  not 
sent  but  unto  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of 
Israel.' 

"The  woman  hears  the  repulse,  but  is  neither 
daunted  nor  disheartened.  Hitherto  she  has 
been  crying  after  the  Lord  at  a  distance;  but 
now  she  comes  and  worships  him,  saying,  'Lord, 
help  me!'  He  then  speaks  to  her,  'It  is  not  meet 
to  take  the  children's  bread  and  cast  it  to  dogs.' 
There  are  few  Christians,  I  am  afraid,  who  would 
not  have  been  silenced  by  this,  few  who  would 


50         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

not  have  turned  away  after  such  an  answer;  but 
not  so  this  heathen  woman.  She,  like  the  cen 
turion,  is  mighty  in  faith,  and  from  the  very 
words  that  seem  to  make  most  against  her, 
she  draws  an  argument  in  her  own  behalf. 
'Truth,  Lord;  yet  the  dogs  eat  of  the  crumbs 
which  fall  from  their  master's  table.'  Martin 
Luther,  in  speaking  of  this  little  history,  says: 
'Was  not  her  answer  a  master-stroke?  She 
snares  Christ  in  his  own  words.  I  would 
set  this  Canaanitish  woman  before  troubled 
hearts,  that  they  may  learn  from  her  how  to 
wring  a  yea  from  God's  nay,  or,  rather,  learn 
how  to  hear  the  deep-hidden  yea  which  many 
times  lurks  under  his  seeming  nay!' 

"She  has  conquered  at  last.  The  trial  of  her 
faith  is  at  an  end.  She  who  had  heard  from  the 
Master  only  words  of  seeming  indifference  now 
hears  words  of  most  gracious  commendation — 
words  whose  like  are  addressed  to  but  one  other 
in  gospel  history,  'O  woman,  great  is  thy  faith.' 
He  now  opens  to  her  the  full  treasure-hous'e 
of  his  grace,  and  bids  her  help  herself.  'Be  it 
unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt.'  All  the  treasures 


A  Life  Reserved  51 

of  God  are  at  the  disposal  of  such  faith.  'For 
this  saying,  go  thy  way :  the  devil  is  gone  out  of 
thy  daughter.' 

"She  had  made  by  her  faith  a  channel  of  com 
munication  between  her  distant  child  and  Christ. 
With  one  hand  of  that  faith  she  had  laid  hold 
of  him  in  whom  all  healing  grace  was  stored, 
and  with  the  other  her  suffering  daughter,  her 
self  a  living  conductor  by  which  the  power  of 
Christ  might  run  like  an  electric  current  from 
him  to  the  object  of  her  love.  'And  when  she 
was  come  to  her  house,  she  found  the  devil  gone 
out,  and  her  daughter  laid  upon  the  bed/ 

"What  is  not  possible  with  such  a  faith  as 
that?  And  shall  we  ask  why  it  was  that  Christ 
waited  long,  'wrestling  with  her  faith,'  to  use 
the  words  of  an  old  divine,  'shaking  and  trying 
whether  it  was  fast-rooted  or  not?'  It  was  be 
cause  he  knew  that  it  was  a  faith  that  would 
stand  the  test,  and  that  the  test  would  not  only 
furnish  an  example  to  the  hearers  and  to  all  fu 
ture  readers  of  her  history,  but  that  she  too  would 
come  out  with  a  stronger,  mightier,  purer  faith 
than  if  she  had  borne  away  her  blessing  merely 


52         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

for  the  asking.  Now,  she  bad  learned,  as  then 
she  never  could  have  learned,  that  when  God 
delays  a  boon,  he  does  not  therefore  tleny  it. 
She  had  learned  the  lesson  that  Moses  must  have 
learned  when  'the  Lord  met  him  and  sought 
to  kill  him ;'  she  had  won  the  strength  that  Jacob 
won  from  wrestling  with  the  angel  until  the 
daybreak. 

"Shall  we  ask,  my  friends,  if  such  a  faith  is 
possible  for  us?  Assuredly  it  is.  God  pleads 
for  our  faith.  Let  us  not  withhold  it  from  him. 

"Dear  friends,  you  want  to  live  a  beautiful 
Christian  life.  You  do  not  want  merely  to  get 
through  in  any  sort  of  way.  You  want  to  con 
duct  yourself  daily  just  as  the  Master  would 
•have  you  do.  You  want  to  live  a  life  of  high 
and  unswerving  faith,  no  matter  What  the  con 
ditions  of  your  life  are.  How  can  you  do  this? 

"Well,  first,  for  your  comfort,  you  must  re 
member  that  when  God  allowed  the  circum 
stances  that  'have  come  into  your  life,  he  meant 
to  see  you  through.  He  had  no  intention  that 
you  should  fail.  There  is  a  text  that  says,  'Thy 
shoes  shall  be  iron.'  That  means  that  in  the 


A  Life  Reserved  53 

stony  paths  you  have  to  walk  over,  God  is  not 
going  to  send  you  forth  with  paper-soled  slip 
pers,  but  with  shoes  strong  and  enduring,  equal 
to  the  need  of  the  journey.  You  must  have 
faith  to  believe  that  there  is  no  haphazard  in 
your  life.  He  knows  where  our  particular  lives 
will  ripen  best.  Every  tree  and  plant  is  found 
in  the  locality  where  the  conditions  of  its  growth 
exist;  and  does  God  care  more  for  these  than 
for  his  children? 

"And  now,  this  faith  is  simply  the  emptiness 
of  self  with  the  hunger  after  God  which  enables 
us  to  appropriate  and  make  so  largely  our  own 
the  fullness  and  power  of  God.  It  is  no  out 
ward  gift  that  comes  as  a  reward  for  self-inflicted 
torture,  but  simply  a  giving  up  of  all  to  God, 
keeping  an  open  pathway  between  our  souls  and 
him,  letting  no  possible  or  conceivable  circum 
stances  shake  our  faith  in  his  love  and  care  for 
us  and  in  the  final  victory  of  his  children." 

She  then  spoke  of  her  own  battk  for  faith, 
and  with  wonderfully  sweet  and  pathetic  words, 
her  eyes  frequently  filling  with  tears,  she  gave 
a  sketch  of  the  wav  she  was  led  from  the  dark- 


54        Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

ness  of  death  into  the  light  of  the  marvelous 
gospel  of  Christ.  "I  do  not  see  how  he  could 
have  so  changed  me,"  she  said  at  the  close; 
"but  love  has  wondrous  power." 

I  noticed,  when  she  told  of  her  own  life,  that 
the  poor  girl  who  had  come  with  her  father 
seemed  very  much  affected.  When  Nannette 
spoke  to  her  at  the  close  of  the  meeting,  she 
clung  to  Nannette's  hand,  and  could  not  refrain 
from  tears.  We  were  pained  to  hear,  soon  after 
that,  of  her  death.  Her  old  father,  who  was  then 
left  alone  in  the  world,  Nannette  sent  for,  to 
come  and  make  his  home  on  the  premises.  He 
told  us  that  the  Thursday  afternoon  he  had 
brought  his  daughter  to  Nannette's  Bible-read 
ing  was  the  first  time  she  had  surrendered  herself 
to  God. 

The  following  Sunday  afternoon,  Mr.  Snyder, 
superintendent  of  the  Mission,  who  had  been 
present  at  this  Bible-reading,  made  some  refer 
ence  to  it.  The  congregation  consisted  largely 
of  the  laboring  classes.  After  the  devotional 
exercises  he  gave  an  impressive  talk  on  the 
words,  "Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and 


A  Life  Reserved  55 

are  'heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 
When  he  had  finished,  he  requested  Nannette 
to  sing.  She  sang,  as  I  had  never  before  heard 
her,  the  impressive  Sunday-school  song,  "O 
prodigal  child,  come  home,  come  home!" 

A  profound  stillness  rested  on  the  congrega 
tion.  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  seemed  brooding 
over  the  people.  When  she  had  finished,  he 
stated  that  a  few  moments  would  be  given  to 
testimonies,  and  added,  "Brother  Stone,  you 
were  a  prodigal  child  for  a  good  many  years; 
suppose  you  give  us  your  experience."  After 
a  moment's  pause,  a  short  man,  dressed  in 
coarse,  but  clean  clothes,  and  with  a  face  that 
bore  marks  of  sad  experience,  but  final  victory, 
arose  in  the  center  of  the  house,  and  said : 

"I  do  n't  know  as  I  have  a  right  to  speak 
first  in  a  meetin'  of  this  sort;  but  I  am  always 
glad  to  spea'k.  If  anybody  had  told  me  four 
year  ago  that  I  would  be  out  of  my  prison- 
cell,  and  standin'  in  a  meetin'-house  at  this 
time,  testifyin'  to  the  power  of  God  to  save  a 
man,  I  could  n't  have  believed  it.  I  never  had 
a  chance  to  learn  that  there  was  anything  worth 


56         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

havin'  for  me.  I  had  got  to  b'lieve  what  I  have 
been  told  since  I  was  a  little  shaver,  that  the 
worst  was  good  enough  for  me,  and  I  could 
never  be  deservin'  of  nothin'.  I  was  cast  loose 
When  I  was  ten  year  old,  an'  as  I  had  no  faith 
in  myself,  nor  nobody  else,  I  nat'rally  found  it 
hard  to  get  jobs,  an'  many  a  nigfht  went  to  bed 
hungry.  The  first  time  I  was  ever  in  a  lock-up, 
it  was  for  breakin'  a  winderglass  in  a  bakery, 
an'  stealin'  a  loaf  of  bread,  an',  sir,  off  and  on, 
I  have  served  out  three  terms  in  jail  an'  ten  years 
in  penitentiary.  I  had  got  at  last  just  about 
as  far  down  as  a  man  can  get.  There  was 
nothin'  that  I  would  n't  do.  I  had  run  the 
whole  course,  and  when  I  was  let  out  of  the 
pen'tentiary  two  year  ago,  I  was  plottin'  the 
biggest  piece  of  meanness  of  all,  when  a  capt'n 
of  a  Salvation  Army  took  me  by  the  arm  one 
night,  and  said:  'Come  into  this  yer  room  with 
me,  won't  you,  my  friend?'  I  turned  on  him 
half  mad  and  half  s'rprised.  After  lookin'  a 
minute,  I  saw  he  was  n't  like  no  chum  of  mine, 
an'  I  could  n't  make  out  what  he  meant.  'What 
for?1  I  asked. 


A  Life  Reserved  57 

"  'O,'  said  he,  'there's  a  number  o'  fellers  in 
there  like  you,  an'  they  're  learnin'  a  better  way 
to  live.  Come,  go  in  with  me.  I  want  to  be 
your  friend,  an'  help  you  to  a  better  life.' 

"  'How  d'  you  know  mef  I  said. 

"  'I  do  n't  know  your  name,'  he  said,  'but  I 
know  you  're  a  man  as  I  am,  an'  so  need  the 
help  o'  God  an'  your  feller-men  to  make  the 
best  o'  you.' 

"I  never  had  heard  no  such  word  as 
that  before,  an'  in  I  went.  Well,  that 
meetin'  was  an  eye-opener  to  me.  I  never 
had  known  nothin'  about  God  afore,  'cept 
to  swear  by  his  name;  an'  when  I  heard 
'em  talkin'  an'  singin'  'bout  his  'savin' 
to  the  uttermost,'  the  words  staid  by  me. 
They  did  n't  leave  me,  but  kept  soundin'  in  my 
ears  all  that  night,  an'  for  days  an'  nights  after 
that.  'Saved  to  the  uttermost,  to  the  uttermost.1 

"Them  Salvation  Army  people  followed  me 
up,  an'  kep'  hold  o'  me  till  I  give  my  poor 
wreck  of  a  life  to  the  great  God.  I  told  him 
I  'd  give  up  everything  I  had  ever  been  an'  done 
if  he  'd  but  save  me.  It  was  a  hard  fight,  I  tell 


58         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

you,  to  b'lieve  that  he  ever  could;  but  it  struck 
me  as  the  truth  one  night  when  I  was  tryin'  to 
pray,  an'  from  that  time,  I  tell  you,  I  have  been 
a  new  man.  When  I  first  come  to  this  mis 
sion,  I  was  just  beginnin'  the  Christian  life. 
I  have  given  up  for  good  all  my  old  habits,  an' 
have  been  a  sober,  honest  man,  doin'  honest 
work  for  nearly  two  year  now.  An'  O,  I  can 
never  tell  you  What  a  tight  grip  God  has  kep' 
of  me.  Ev'ry  day  when  I  take  my  dinner-basket, 
an'  go  to  my  work,  I  feel  as  sure  o'  the  Son  o' 
God  as  if  he  was  walkin'  by  my  side;  an'  all  day 
long,  instead  of  a  swear  in  my  heart,  as  there 
used  ter  be,  there 's  a  'praise  to  God.'  O,  I 
thank  him  for  the  truths  that  I  Ve  heard  in  this 
mission!  They  have  helped  me  along,  an'  I 
want  to  say,  if  there  's  one  here  who  is  laborin' 
under  a  load  o'  sin  an'  guilt,  I  want  to  say  to 
that  one,  if  God  could  save  me,  he  can  save 
anybody  to  rlie  uttermost" 

When  he  sat  down,  some  one  started  the 
hymn,  "The  half  has  never  yet  been  told,"  after 
which  another  man  spoke  of  what  his  life  had 
previously  been,  and  how  the  world  was  now  a 


A  Life  Reserved  59 

changed  place  to  him.  Then  a  woman,  with 
tears  streaming  down  her  face,  told  how  her 
home  had  been  redeemed  since  her  husband  had 
been  led,  half  drunk,  into  that  mission  one  Sun 
day  morning  by  his  little  consumptive  child, 
who  had  died  a  few  days  after.  He  had  gone 
there  again  and  again  after  her  death,  and  now 
he  was  reformed  and  a  rejoicing  Christian. 
Other  testimonies  were  given,  one  by  a  slender, 
timid  girl,  who  stood  near  Nannette's  chair. 
This  was  followed  by  a  fervent  prayer.  An  un 
usual  silence  rested  upon  the  audience.  All 
seemed  to  feel  the  power  of  an  invisible  Pres 
ence.  Mr.  Snyder  invited  all  those  who  desired 
an  interest  in  the  prayers  of  Christian  people 
to  come  to  the  front  seats.  Among  the  number 
who  did  so  was  one  man  whose  appearance 
touched  Nannette  deeply.  She  rolled  her  chair 
near  his,  and,  laying  her  hand  gently  on  his 
arm,  began  a  low  conversation  witih  him  upon 
the  one  subject  that  exalts  all  humanity  to  a 
common  plane. 

He    lingered    long    in    the    mission    church, 
after  many   others   had   gone   to   their  homes. 


60         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

Nannette  read  to  him  passage  after  passage  from 
her  Bible,  and  did  not  leave  him  until  the  light 
of  God's  peace  had  filled  his  soul,  and  she  her 
self  had  had  that  sacred  and  ever-to-be-remem 
bered  experience  of  having  been  the  medium 
of  the  birth  of  a  soul  into  the  kingdom  of  God. 

After  we  had  readied  home  that  evening, 
Nannette  said,  as  she  sat  near  the  old,  vine- 
covered  window,  with  her  eyes  turned  toward 
the  sea :  "Jean,  this  has  been  such  a  blessed  day 
to  me !  I  would  rather  give  my  time  and  money 
to  the  salvation  and  uplifting  of  those  hungry- 
hearted,  rugged  lives  than  to  have  every  joy 
and  pleasure  wealth  can  offer.  It  is  incompa 
rably  better  and  sweeter.  How  strange  it  is  that 
Christians  are  so  long  in  realizing  their  great 
privilege :  to  preach  deliverance  to  captives,  poor 
and  rich,  low  and  high,  everywhere,  deliverance!" 

We  sat  there  in  the  stillness,  feeling  the 
weight  of  those  words,  "deliverance  to  captives ;" 
feeling  how  all  humanity  is  bound,  bound  by 
invisible,  but  unbreakable,  chains,  and  there 
stands  but  One,  the  Divine  Son  of  man,  offering 
deliverance. 


A  Life  Reserved  61 

As  that  sweet  Sabbath  evening  faded  over 
the  hills,  there  were  two  hearts  in  that  home 
more  fully  determined  than  ever  before,  under 
the  inspiration  of  the  day  that  had  passed,  to 
speak  of  this  deliverance  to  them  that  are  bound. 


"It  is  enough  to  bear, 
This  image  still  and  fair ; 
This  holier  in  sleep 
Than  a  saint  at  prayer ; 
This  aspect  of  a  child, 
Who  never  sinned  or  smiled; 
This  presence  in  an  infant's  face, 
This  sadness,  most  like  love, 
This  love  than  love  more  deep ; 
This  weakness  like  omnipotence, 
It  is  so  strong  to  move." 

— MRS.  BROWNING. 

THE  history  of  this  world  will  never  be  fully 
written  until  the  service  that  has  been  rendered 
by  little  children  is  recorded. 

We  know  what  philosophers  and  poets  and 
historians  and  statesmen  have  done.  The  world 
has  sung  their  praises,  and  recorded  their  feats 
for  many  centuries;  but  who  has  given  to  the 
world  the  history  of  childhood's  service? 

A  new  meaning  was  given  to  this  relationship 
62 


Ministry  of  Little  Children  63 

and  a  new  order  of  love  instituted  nineteen  hun 
dred  years  ago  when  a  certain  Child  was  born 
in  a  roadside  inn.  From  that  day,  time  has 
been  redated. 

It  is  frequently  stated  that  the  active  ministry 
of  our  Lord  was  summed  up  in  the  last  three 
years  of  his  life.  But  his  ministry  began  at  the 
time  of  his  birth.  All  who  had  to  do  with  this 
holy  Child  sang — Elizabeth,  when  she  met  the 
mother  of  her  Lord;  Zacharias,  whose  son  was 
to  proclaim  the  tidings  of  the  coming  Messiah; 
Simeon,  when  he  held  him  in  his  arms,  and 
said  he  was  ready  to  die  in  peace;  the  Virgin 
Mother,  whose  soul  magnified  the  Lord  in  her 
praises;  and  the  heavenly  host,  whose  angel 
voices  rang  with  the  cry,  "Peace  on  earth,  good 
will  to  men."  Through  all  the  years  of  his 
faultless  dhildhood  his  life  must  have  been  an 
inspiration  to  his  watchful  mother  and  all  others 
associated  with  him. 

There  was  in  him  the  Divine,  which  re 
mained  fixed;  the  human,  which  was  constantly 
developing.  One  uniform  idea  and  purpose 
characterized  his  whole  life  with  an  immutable 


64         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

unity  throughout;  yet  he  was  m'ade  subject  to 
the  laws  of  growth.  Although  the  period  of 
his  childhood  must  have  been  one  of  remarkable 
beauty  and  purity,  yet  he  grew  in  strength  and 
wisdom  and  grace.  He  was  a  natural  child, 
not  a  man  in  child's  years.  Gradually,  and  not 
at  once,  he  embraced  the  sphere  of  human  du 
ties,  and  awoke  to  his  relationships — the  Son, 
the  Brother,  the  Citizen,  the  Master. 

Those  wonderful  years  of  his  childhood's 
development  have  opened  forever  a  pathway  be 
tween  his  heart  and  the  heart  of  childhood.  He 
understands  children.  They  can  come  to  him 
fearlessly.  He  knows  how  real  the  joys  and 
sorrows  are  that  go  to  make  up  their  little  lives. 
If  there  is  a  period  in  life  where  the  human 
touches  the  Divine,  it  is  in  consecrated  child 
hood;  and  does  he  not  use  the  same  processes 
with  little  ones  frequently  as  with  his  elder  chil 
dren,  to  make  them  one  with  himself — 'the  pro 
cesses  of  suffering,  deprivation,  and  loneliness? 

Nannette  and  I,  in  our  work  with  little  chil 
dren,  saw  many  lessons  of  patience,  endurance, 
and  unselfishness  exemplified. 


Ministry  of  Little  Children  65 

In  the  Children's  Ward  at  the  Methodist 
Hospital,  where  we  spent  many  hours  of  thank 
ful  service,  the  faith  of  the  children  often  im 
pressed  us  as  remarkable.  Little  Jimmy  said 
one  day  When  he  was  very  sick:  "Won't  you 
please  pray,  Miss  Nannette?  Pray  quick!" — 
and  after  the  prayer:  "That  will  do;  I  am  bet 
ter  now." 

We  tried  to  comfort  him  by  telling  him  his 
pains  would  soon  be  over. 

"Yes,  but  I  'm  not  going  to  leave  just  yet," 
he  replied. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?" 

"Well,  did  n't  you  pray  God  to  make  me 
willing  to  go? — and  he  has  not  made  me  willing 
yet." 

One  morning,  when  another  child  was  dying, 
she  asked  us  if  God  had  tight  hold  of  her  hand, 
and,  when  told,  "Yes,"  she  said,  "All  rig-lit, 
then,"  and  fell  asleep. 

Nannette  was  especially  happy  in  her  rela 
tionships  with  children.  It  was  with  great  diffi 
culty  she  visited  the  hospital,  but  as  one  room 

for  the  children  was  on  the  first  floor,  she  was 
5 


66         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

assisted  from  her  carriage  inside  the  building, 
and  given  the  use  of  an  invalid  chair,  so  she 
might  visit  this  room  especially.  She  herself 
had  fitted  it  up  in  a  most  attractive  manner. 

The  walls  were  wihi'te  and  gold,  upon  which 
were  hung  beautiful  pictures  that  were  at  once 
pleasing  and  instructive  to  the  child-mind. 
Dainty  bric-a-brac  and  pieces  of  wood-carving 
ornamented  the  two  mantels,  over  which  por 
traits  hung  of  the  Madonna  and  the  Christ-child. 
Gift-books  and  curios  filled  a  small  cabinet  at 
one  side  of  the  room.  Eight  snow-white  beds, 
a  few  comfortable  chairs  of  various  sizes,  and 
two  large,  low  tables,  upon  which  were  toys 
and  easy  games,  completed  the  furnishings. 
Whenever  Nannette  spent  a  morning  there,  it 
meant  a  season  of  comfort  and  rejoicing  for 
the  little  ones. 

Frequently,  on  her  return  from  the  hos 
pital  during  the  pleasant,  warm  weather,  she 
visited  a  free  kindergarten  school  that  was  sup 
ported  by  the  Church  to  which  we  belonged. 
She  Would  stop  in  her  carriage,  and  watch  the 
children  play  at  their  outdoor  games.  That 


Ministry  of  Little  Children  67 

first  year  the  school  was  organized,  Nannette 
learned  the  history  of  many  little  children 
there.  She  used  to  say  that  no  work  in  the 
world  was  of  so  much  worth  as  the  training 
of  children,  not  only  for  the  sake  of  their  fu 
ture,  but  because  of  the  immediate  benefits  that 
might  result  in  their  own  homes. 

"Who  can  tell,"  she  would  say,  "how  many 
adults  have  been  saved  by  tine  ministry  of  chil 
dren?  No  burden,  no  care  or  responsibility 
in  the  nurture  of  them  is  comparable  in  any 
degree  to  the  joy  and  comfort  brought  into  this 
world  by  the  prattling  of  their  sweet  infant 
voices  and  the  pattering  of  their  little  feet.  One 
beautiful  example  of  a  child's  influence  in  her 
home  was  told  us  by  the  teachers  of  that  kinder 
garten  school.  It  might  seem  almost  incredible 
to  some,  but  every  detail  given  was  in  accord 
ance  with  the  facts.  The  child  was  but  four 
years  of  age,  yet  she  h'ad  learned  to  love  the 
Savior  while  attending  t)he  sdhool.  No  one  in 
her  father's  family  was  a  Christian.  She  said 
her  little  prayers  frequently  in  her  home,  and 
sang  snatches  of  religious  song.  When  her  baby 


68         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

sister  died,  she  climbed  up  in  her  mother's  lap, 
and,  twining  her  arms  about  her  mother's  neck, 
said :  "Do  n't  cry,  mamma ;  do  n't  cry.  Baby 
is  with  Jesus.  Be  glad,  mamma.  Jesus  has 
got  baby  in  his  heaven." 

The  mother  could  not  understand  her  happy 
little  girl,  and  yet  somehow  the  words 
soothed  her. 

Finally  the  child's  father  became  very  ill,  in 
somuch  that  his  life  was  despaired  of.  His  little 
child  watdhed  by  his  bedside  like  a  nurse,  and 
said  in  the  face  of  all  their  fears  that  he  would 
not  die.  One  night  she  kneeled  by  his  bedside, 
and  prayed  these  words: 

"O  Jesus,  do  n't  let  papa  die !  Papa  is  not 
a  Christian,  and  papa  would  not  go  to  heaven. 
Do  n't  let  papa  die !  Let  me  die  for  papa." 

At  last  the  physicians  gave  them  no  hope, 
and  said  he  must  die;  but  the  child  insisted  he 
would  not.  She  said  Jesus  had  told  her  her 
papa  would  get  well,  and  she  would  not  believe 
anything  else.  As  time  went  on,  he  did  get 
well. 

After  he  was  restored  to  health,  his  little  one 


Ministry  of  Little  Children  69 

said  to  him  one  day,  "Papa,  will  you  pray 
with  me?" 

The  strong  man  got  down  on  his  knees,  and 
learned  to  pray  from  the.  lips  of  his  four-year- 
old  child.  Through  her  influence,  and  that  of 
her  two  earnest  Christian  teachers,  her  father 
became  a  Christian,  and  so  did  the  mother. 

One  morning,  in  the  kindergarten  school,  she 
was  asked  how  it  was  she  felt  so  sure  of  Jesus' 
love  for  her.  She  replied,  putting  her  little 
hand  on  her  heart,  "Somet'hin'  tells  me  so,  and 
it  makes  me  so  glad." 

She  was  always  gentle  and  kind,  loving  above 
everything  else  to  sing  the  songs  she  learned  at 
the  school.  After  months  of  beautiful  Christian 
service  there  and  at  her  home,  she  became  seri 
ously  ill.  She  told  her  parents  and  friends  that 
she  knew  she  was  "going  home  to  Jesus."  It 
seemed  to  dawn  upon  her  from  the  first  day 
that  the  Lord  was  going  to  take  her  instead  of 
having  taken  her  father.  Everything  in  the 
power  of  friends  was  done  to  save  her,  but  to 
no  avail.  Just  before  she  died,  she  called  her 
mother,  and,  with  a  sweet  smile,  said :  "Mamma, 


70        Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

please  get  out  my  little  red  shoes.  I  want  to 
look  nice  when  I  go  to  Jesus'  home.  Do  n't 
cry,  mamma.  It  will  be  so  sweet  to  see  my 
Jesus." 

Was  not  Christ  made  perfect  in  this  little 
lamb  of  his?  She  had  been  baptized  with  his 
.  sufferings.  She  had  agonized  in  her  baby  way 
for  the  life  of  her  father,  because  she  could  not 
endure  the  thought  of  his  going  out  into  the 
dark  without  salvation.  She  had  caught  the 
spirit  of  the  Divine  mission.  She  had  prayed 
that  she  might  die  for  her  father;  and  through 
her  faith  and  surrender  of  self  she  brought  him 
to  Christ,  and  drew  Christ  down  to  him. 

Let  no  one  ever  say,  "Only  a  child,  only  a 
poor,  little,  delicate  child."  Although  he  may 
know  it  not,  he  is  saying,  ''Only  Christ  in  the 
guise  of  a  child;  only  Christ  come  in  the  most 
appealing  form  possible  to  earth." 

What  is  the  Divine  verdict  concerning  these 
little  ones?  "Except  ye  be  converted,  and  be 
come  as  little  children,  ye  shall  in  no  wise  enter 
the  kingdom  of  heaven."  "Out  of  the  mouths 
of  babes  and  sucklings,  O  Father,  hast  thou 


Ministry  of  Little  Children  71 

perfected  praise."  "Whosoever  receiveth  a  little 
child  in  my  name  receiveth  me,  and  whosoever 
receiveth  me  receiveth  God."  The  consequence 
of  the  neglect  of  one  of  these  little  ones  will  be 
such  that  no  language  of  earth  can  name  it. 

One  dear  day  a  beautiful  babe  came  from  the 
starry  world  to  earth.  She  was  the  only  child 
of  our  dearest  friend,  Nannette's  and  mine.  She 
was  not  to  remain  long.  Her  abiding-time  was 
rounded  by  a  half  year.  Her  mother  had  prayed 
for  her  for  years;  and  now,  when  she  had  come 
at  last,  so  radiant  and  perfect  in  every  way, 
that  mother's  heart  believed  not  for  joy.  From 
the  very  beginning  of  her  sweet  ministry,  she 
had  a  smile  for  every  one.  A  lovely  light  seemed 
always  in  her  face.  She  knew  her  mother  from 
every  one  else  within  a  very  short  time,  and  they 
would  lie  on  the  couch  together,  and  study  each 
other's  faces,  and  look  deep  into  each  other's 
eyes,  and  rest  in  each  other's  spirits,  like  two 
lovers  that  had  met  after  having  waited  long. 

Frequently  when  that  mother  thought  her 
darling  was  asleep,  and  the  little  head  was  turned 
away,  the  mother  would  move  noiselessly  about 


72         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

to  the  other  side  of  the  bed,  and  see  two  beau 
tiful  dark  eyes  lifted  to  hers,  and  a  smile  of  wd- 
come  as  sweet  as  a  lily's  perfume.  At  night 
time  they  slept  witih  their  hands  clasped  in  each 
other's,  and  in  the  morning  they  would  awaken 
and  talk  baby-language.  There  was  perfect  rest, 
perfect  satisfaction,  so  much  so  that  when  that 
mother,  whose  life  was  hard  to  satisfy,  was  ques 
tioned  one  day  as  to  whether,  if  she  could,  She 
would  have  her  little  one  different  in  any  single 
respect,  she  replied,  "No,  slhe  is  absolutely  per 
fect.  I  could  not  have  imagined  that  anything 
could  have  rested  my  Heart  as  she  does." 

After  three  months  had  passed,  the  nurse 
startled  the  mother  one  day  by  saying : 

"I  can  not  understand  your  babe.  She  is 
different  from  any  other  I  ever  saw.  No  matter 
what  happens  to  her,  she  never  cries.  I  have 
nursed  for  thirty  years,  but  this  is  the  first  child 
I  ever  saw  who  never  slhows  the  slightest  irri 
tability  or  fretfulness,  and  I  'have  never  heard 
her  cry." 

The  mother  had  thought  of  this  before.  Her 
child  always  smiled.  Even  when  her  nourish- 


Ministry  of  Little  Children  73 

ment  was  refused  (her,  she  only  looked  deeper 
into  your  face  with  her  questioning  eyes,  and 
smiled. 

One  day  the  mother  and  child  were  lying  still 
together,  and  the  mother's  heart  was  sad.  Her 
face  was  turned  away  from  'that  of  'her  child,  and 
tears  were  streaming  down  it.  Presently  she  felt 
a  baby  hand  touch  her  as  lightly  as  an  angel's 
wing.  She  turned  with  shame  toward  that  radi 
ant  little  messenger,  but  the  very  sight  of  its 
'heavenliness  that  day  only  made  the  tears  stream 
faster.  The  baby  smiled  and  smiled,  and  tried 
to  talk,  and  stroked  her  mother's  face  with  her 
lovely  fairy  fingers  until  she  saw  it  was  useless. 
Then,  as  if  she  could  no  longer  endure  tftie  sight 
of  her  mother's  grief,  she  turned  her  own  little 
face  away  toward  the  wall  and  kept  it  so. 

Finally  disease  laid  hold  of  her  dainty  form. 
Did  she  cry  and  scream?  Never  once.  At 
length  indications  of  extreme  suffering  were 
found,  yet  never  any  complaint,  only  occasion 
ally  a  moan  or  a  sigh.  She  always  smiled,  and 
her  face  wore  the  bloom  of  a  spring  rose.  How 
did  physicians  and  friends  explain  it?  By  saying 


74         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

she  was  not  ill,  no  matter  ihow  plain  the  indica 
tions  of  illness  were.  Only  her  mother  kept  all 
these  things,  and  pondered  them  in  her  heart. 
Weeks  passed.  Her  suffering-  was  excruciating. 
The  outward  symptoms  were  painful  to  behold. 
One  Sabbath  afternoon  she  had  fallen  into  a 
heavy  sleep.  It  was  the  afternoon  of  her  bap 
tism.  Friends  and  ministers  had  arrived,  and 
could  wait  no  longer  for  her  to  awaken.  She 
was  therefore  awakened  out  of  her  slumber  to 
be  made  ready.  She  showed  not  the  least  sign 
of  impatience  or  fretfulness,  but  opened  her 
beautiful  eyes,  and  when  dressed  and  taken  into 
the  room  she  looked  so  smiling  and  bright  that 
it  was  whispered  about  the  room,  "What  a  lovely 
child!  How  beautiful  she  is!"  When  handed 
over  to  the  aged  bishop  for  baptism,  she  reached 
out  her  little  arms  and  put  them  about  his  neck ; 
then  she  turned  her  eyes  to  his  face,  and  kept 
them  there  during  the  reading  of  the  entire  serv 
ice.  When  he  poured  the  water  on  her  head 
and  it  ran  down  her  face  and  neck,  she  looked  up 
through  the  shower  as  fresh  and  radiant  as  if  she 


Ministry  of  Little  Children  75 

were  grateful  for  it.  Friends  said  they  had  never 
before  seen  a  baptism  as  touching,  as  beautiful. 
A  week  from  that  day  physicians  said  she 
could  not  live  twenty-four  hours.  What  a  life 
time  of  anguish  was  lived  those  twenty-four 
hours!  But  the  wondrous  child  looked  at  the 
mother  surprised,  with  a  look  that  said:  "Why, 
mother,  did  n't  you  understand?  I  thought  you 
knew  at  the  beginning  I  did  not  come  to  stay?" 
"Yes ;  but  I  will  die  if  you  leave  me." 
"O  no,  mother.  You  will  live,  and  will  live 
a  better  life  than  if  I  had  not  come,"  and  the 
questioning  eyes  never  closed  for  the  last  time 
until  that  was  answered  in  the  affirmative.  Then 
she  slipped  away  noiselessly  and  mysteriously, 
like  a  wondrous  dream,  and  strong  men  stood 
by  and  wept,  and  brave  women  said  their  lives 
must  become  better  for  having  known  that 
sainted  child,  and  poems  were  written  about  her 
that  seemed  wrestling  with  language  to  express 
sufficiently  the  Christ-spirit  in  that  baby-browed 
and  speechless  being.  Nannette  watched  at  the 
last  with  the  mother.  She  spoke  no  word,  but 


76         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

her  grief-stricken  face  filled  me  with  awe  and 
sorrow.  When  all  was  over,  she  poured  out  her 
heart  in  verse  that  gave  even  me  a  glimpse  into 
unsuspected  depths  of  her  nature. 

O  child,  how  all  things  pale 

Since  thou  art  gone. 
Our  hearts  in  mute  despair 

Follow  thee  on 
To  where  in  realms  beyond, 
Thy  life  transfigured  now 

Is  just  begun. 


No  speech,  nor  words  of  song  or  verse, 

Whate'er  their  love  or  tenderness, 
Could  but  with  faintest  power  rehearse 

The  ways,  the  measure,  thou  didst  bless. 

Just  half  a  year  wast  thou  on  earth; 

In  its  quick  flight,  with  eager  breath, 
Thy  spirit  from  the  mystery,  Birth, 

Passed  to  that  other  mystery,  Death. 

Did'st  know  't  would  be  so  short,  dear  one, 

And  therefore  wast  so  wondrous  mild, 
So  patient,  with  no  cry  or  moan, 
t     So  meek,  so  peaceful,  heavenly  child? 

O  spirit  strong,  and  fearless  too, 

Which  looked  forth  through  thy  searching  eyes, 
And  in  thy  gentle  powers  did  woo 

Our  hearts  to  thine,  so  truly  wise  ! 


Ministry  of  Little  Children  77 

Thou  wast  so  loving  in  thy  ways; 

Ah,  how  thy  radiant  little  face 
Did  beam  like  sunshine  in  thy  plays ! 

O  baby,  baby,  how  thy  place 

Is  filled  with  cureless  loneliness  ! 

The  world  is  changed  since  thou  art  gone; 
O  for  thy  touch,  thy  soft  caress — 

But  months  and  years  must  still  roll  on. 


O  the  glory  of  those  child  eyes, 

O,  those  precious,  dainty  feet; 
O  those  peals  of  spirit  laughter 

That  were  so  divinely  sweet ! 
Has  that  music  gone  forever? 

Are  those  tender  lispings  o'er? 
O  the  terror  !     O  the  anguish 

Of  that  one  word,  evermore  ! 

Ever  was  she  but  a  stranger 
Among  the  sublunary  things; 

All  her  life  was  but  the  folding 
Of  her  gorgeous  spirit- wings. 

And  she  left  us — she,  our  angel, 
Without  murmur,  without  moan; 

And  we  '  woke  and  found  it  starlight- 
Found  that  we  were  all  alone. 


Angel  of  patience,  do  thou  calm 
Our  fevered  brow  with  healing  balm; 
Allay  the  storms  of  grief  and  fear, 
And  reconcile  life's  smile  and  tear. 
Our  throbbing  hearts,  O  do  thou  still, 
And  make  our  own  our  Father' s  will ! 


iv 

MRS.  MUNSY'S  EXPERIENCE 

"Distrust  thyself,  but  trust  His  strength, 

In  Him  thou  shall  be  strong ; 
His  weakest  ones  may  learn  at  length 
A  daily  triumph  song." 

EVERY  experience  that  entered  into  and  en 
riched  Nannette's  private  life  seemed  to  fit  her 
for  more  perfect  service  in  her  relations  with 
people  outside.  Her  work  at  East  Street  Mis 
sion,  or  in  her  Bible-readings,  or  in  the  Woman's 
Missionary  Societies  of  the  Church,  became 
blessed  by  whatever  blessed  her.  Naturally  a 
leader,  her  intuitive  ability  gave  her  insight  into 
character,  and  she"  studied  methods  and  plans 
and  devised  means  for  carrying  on  work  that 
proved  eminently  successful. 

Into  avenues  where  she  could  not  go  herself 
she  induced  others  to  go,  and  her  counsel  was 
so  manifestly  of  the  Lord  that  none  could  hold 
out  against  it.  At  one  time  an  apparently  trivial 

78 


Mrs.  Munsy's  Experience  79 

circumstance  became  the  means  of  changing  the 
entire  course  of  a  woman's  life. 

It  was  at  a  Home  Missionary  meeting  con 
nected  with  the  Church  to  which  we  belonged. 
This  Church  was  within  a  few  blocks  of  Auburn 
Place,  and  Nannette  was  frequently  wheeled 
there.  She  was  the  president  of  our  local  soci 
ety,  and  in  the  appointment  of  her  committees 
she  asked  Mrs.  Munsy  to  be  one  of  a  visiting 
committee  of  two  for  the  ensuing  month  to  visit 
through  a  certain  district,  and  to  spend  one  after 
noon  in  the  woman's  ward  at  the  Methodist  hos 
pital.  When  Mrs.  Munsy  heard  the  appoint 
ment,  she  said  with  much  surprise : 

"O,  do  n't  put  me  on  that  committee.  I  never 
was  in  a  hospital  in  my  life." 

"Then  that  is  a  very  good  reason  why  you 
should  serve,"  said  Nannette,  and  smilingly 
waived  the  subject  until  after  the  meeting  had 
closed.  Then  she  said  to  Mrs.  Munsy: 

"I  know  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  serve  on 
this  committee.  Mrs.  Hall  will  accompany  you, 
and  I  believe  it  will  prove  a  blessing  to  you.  We 
want  you  to  become  one  of  our  workers." 


8o        Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

"But,  dear  me — that  hospital!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Munsy.  "Why,  I  should  be  sure  to  catch 
every  disease  they  had  there.  I  do  n't  know  any 
thing  about  hospitals,  and  not  much  about  sick 
folks.  I  'm  afraid  if  I  agree  to  it,  you  will  be 
sorry  you  ever  appointed  me." 

She  was  a  short,  stout  woman,  somewhere  in 
the  neighborhood  of  forty  years;  a  model  wife 
and  housekeeper,  who  had  never  had  a  real  ill 
ness  in  her  life,  and  whose  experience  had  not 
been  very  extensive  in  helping  her  neighbors  less 
fortunate  in  that  regard  than  herself. 

She  agreed  to  serve  on  the  committee,  but 
with  an  inward  feeling,  betraying  a  touch  of  self- 
righteousness,  that  it  would  be  indeed  a  bearing 
of  'her  cross,  for  which  slie  'hoped  to  get  the  well- 
deserved  credit. 

She  thought  about  it  all  the  way  home,  and 
that  night  at  the  supper-table  remarked  to  her 
husband  and  her  fourteen-year-old  son,  who  con 
stituted  the  remainder  of  the  family: 

"Well,  I  Ve  got  myself  into  a  pickle  now.  I 
thought  when  I  joined  that  Missionary  Society 
I  would  get  acquainted  in  that  way  with  some 


Mrs.  Munsy's  Experience  81 

well-to-do  women  in  this  part  of  town,  and  I 
have  enjoyed  attending  the  meetings;  but  this 
afternoon  the  leader  put  me  on  a  committee  to 
visit  sick  folks  for  this  month,  and  worse  than 
that,  I  am  to  spend  an  afternoon  at  the  Meth 
odist  hospital!  How  in  the  world  can  I  manage 
to  go  there  f" 

"Well,  my  dear,1''  replied  her  husband,  in  his 
characteristic  drawl  that  carried  with  it  an  air 
of  indifference,  "you  can  generally  manage  well 
enough  to  do  the  things  you  have  a  mind  to  do." 

"There  is  one  thing  about  it,"  she  went  on, 
"that  I  do  n't  object  to.  Mrs.  Hall  is  the  other 
part  of  the  committee,  and  she  is  a  woman  I  have 
been  wanting  to  know.  I  '11  be  right  glad  to  go 
with  her.  She  is  to  call  for  me  to-morrow." 

In  the  days  that  followed,  Mrs.  Munsy's 
visits  made  with  this  lady  were  almost  en 
tirely  given  up  to  friendly  gossip  relating  to  her 
own  affairs.  One  would  have  thought  each  time 
she  went  that  she  was  on  her  way  to  an  after 
noon  tea.  She  hurried  out  of  the  sick-rooms 
where  they  had  been  together,  and  involuntarily 

shook  her  stiff  skirts  a  little,  and  then  took  up 
fi 


82         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

the  theme  they  'had  been  discussing  when  they 
went  in.  She  remarked  to  her  husband  a  week 
later: 

"Well,  I  really  enjoy  my  visits  with  Mrs.  Hall. 
She  is  a  very  well-bred  woman." 

"O,"  replied  Mr.  Munsy,  "I  understood  you 
to  say  your  visits  were  to  be  made  to  the  sick." 

"Well,  of  course,  Mr.  Munsy.  You  never  do 
understand  things.  We  visit  the  sick,  to  be 
sure,  and  I  generally  tell  them  we  are  the  com 
mittee  sent  to  see  if  they  want  anything,  although 
Mrs.  Hall  did  say,  the  other  day,  she  did  not 
think  it  best  to  make  any  reference  again  to  our 
being  a  committee,  and  so  on.  I  told  her  I  was 
a  new  hand  at  the  business.  I  wish  we  could 
go  about  in  a  buggy.  I  think,  James,  you  might 
get  me  that  surrey  this  spring.  You  said  months 
ago  you  hoped  to  get  it  soon,  and  I  never  forget 
anything." 

"Well,"  responded  her  husband,  "I  have  had 
it  on  my  mind,  but  business  has  been  so  dull  all 
winter,  and  I  '11  have  to  hold  in  a  little  until 
things  spruce  up ;  but  I  reckon  you  '11  get  it 
sooner  or  later." 


Mrs.  Mtmsy's  Experience  83 

On  the  day  appointed  for  the  ladies  to  visit 
the  hospital,  they  were  to  meet  at  the  transfer 
street-car  station  in  the  city,  and  go  out  to 
gether.  Mrs.  Munsy  had  not  thought  to  inquire 
whether  or  not  they  would  be  expected  to  carry 
with  them  any  suitable  reading-matter,  but 
thought  of  it  the  evening  before  going,  and  tried 
to  find  something  she  considered  appropriate. 
"What  shall  I  take?"  she  queried.  "Of  course 
it  must  be  some  very  solemn  and  pious  books, 
and  what  have  we  got?  Let  me  see."  She  then 
went  to  their  meager  library,  and  looked  over 
the  oldest  books  she  could  find.  "There  's  this 
'Dissertation  on  Eternal  Punishment,'  and  this 
old  copy  of  'Pilgrim's  Progress,'  though  the 
print  is  very  fine  and  it  smells  musty.  I  '11  just 
lay  it  'here  in  the  window  until  morning,  and  let 
it  get  a  bit  of  air.  Now  let  me  see  what  iiext. 
This  'Scottish  Chiefs'  would  n't  do,  nor  the  'Rise 
and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire.'  O,  I  believe  I 
will  look  through  pa's  old  dhest.  He  used  to 
have  some  books  that  he  laid  a  heap  of  store  by," 
and  with  that  she  ran  upstairs  and  uncovered 
an  old  hair  dhest  that  !had  been  in  the  attic  for 


84         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

years.  Here  she  found  copies  of  "Ossian's 
Poems,"  "The  Saint's  Rest,"  "The  Pilgrimage 
to  Jerusalem,"  "Josephus,"  and  other  ancient 
books.  The  volume  she  selected  as  the  most 
appropriate  of  all  was  entitled,  "Way marks  in 
the  Wilderness."  She  found  a  few  worn  places 
in  it,  and  the  pages  were  very  yellow;  but  she 
concluded,  in  spite  of  that,  it  would  be  the  most 
appropriate  of  all  her  father's  books,  the  title, 
she  said,  being  so  expressive  of  the  condition  of 
those  poor  bed-ridden  creatures.  "It  must  be  a 
wilderness,  indeed,"  she  soliloquized,  as  she  went 
down  stairs. 

The  next  day,  when  she  started  out  for  the 
hospital,  sihe  considered  herself  well  equipped 
for  a  visit  there,  with  her  washable  dress  on,  and 
carrying  under  her  arm  copies  of  "Pilgrim's 
Progess,"  "Dissertations  on  Eternal  Punish 
ment,"  and  "Waymarks  in  the  Wilderness." 
She  found,  to  her  dismay,  that  Mrs.  Hall  was  not 
at  the  transfer  station,  that  lady  explaining  after 
wards  that  she  was  detained  at  home  by  a  sick 
headache.  Mrs.  Munsy  was  determined,  how 
ever,  after  having  made  her  preparations,  to  put 


Mrs.  Munsy's  Experience  85 

on  a  bold  front  and  go  by  herself.  She  made  in 
quiries  about  the  right  direction  from  a  half- 
dozen  people,  but  was  not  at  all  certain  that  any 
of  them  had  directed  her  right.  She  finally 
reached  the  hospital  in  safety,  'however,  and 
climbed  the  front  steps  of  the  great  brick  build 
ing.  A  little  out  of  breath,  she  asked  the  maid 
if  she  might  be  directed  to  the  woman's  ward. 
After  some  words  of  inquiry  and  explanation  on 
both  sides,  she  was  conducted  up  two  flights  of 
stairs,  and  into  a  large  airy  room.  The  walls  and 
ceilings  were  perfectly  white,  the  floor  spotless, 
and  the  iron  beds  upon  which  the  patients  lay 
clean  and  white,  the  nurses  in  uniform  dress 
passing  in  and  out  attending  the  patients.  There 
was  a  slight  odor  of  medicines  and  disinfectants ; 
but,  with  that  exception,  everything  was  as  sweet 
and  wholesome  as  in  the  most  carefully-kept 
private  'house,  even  to  the  dainty  linen  covers 
on  -the  small  tables. 

This  was  not  exactly  as  Mrs.  Munsy  had  ex 
pected  to  find  things.  She  felt  somewhat  em 
barrassed  as  she  approached  a  certain  lady,  and 
sat  down  by  her  bedside. 


86         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

"I  am  not  accustomed,"  she  began  rather 
awkwardly,  "to  visiting  sick  people  much;  but 
I  was  put  on  the  committee  for  this  month  by 
the  president  of  the  Home  Missionary  Society  of 
the  Methodist  Church,  and  I  just  thought  I  'd 
come  and  see  how  you  all  are." 

"That 's  very  kind  of  you,"  said  the  gentle- 
voiced  lady,  trying  at  once  to-  relieve  the  stran 
ger's  embarrassment.  "It  seems  to  me  there  are 
so  many  kind-hearted  people.  We  have  had  a 
number  of  pleasant  visits  from  the  ladies  of  your 
Society.  Won't  you  lay  aside  your  wrap?" 

"Thank  you,"  and  as  she  did  so  the  three 
ancient  books  she  had  brought  with  her  came 
into  full  view.  She  slipped  them  into  her  lap, 
and  after  making  a  few  passing  remarks  said : 

"I  thought  you  sick  folks  must  be  very  lone 
some  and  very — disconsolate,  and  I  brought  a 
few  books  with  me  that  pa  used  to  read  a  great 
deal  before  he  died." 

As  she  spoke  she  laid  the  three  books  on  the 
small  table  that  stood  at  the  head  of  the  sick 
woman's  bed.  The  lady  smiled  as  she  glanced  at 
t/hem  one  by  one. 


Mrs.  Munsy's  Experience  87 

"  This  'Pilgrim's  Progress,'  "  she  said,  "I  used 
to  read  years  ago,  but  I  never  saw  either  of  these 
other  books.  I  can  read  but  very  little,  as  it 
hurts  my  eyes,  and  even  when  my  friends  read 
to  me  I  have  to  take  it  in  homeopathic  doses. 
When  Sister  Emma  -comes  she  always,  leaves  as 
a  parting  word  not  to  read  more  than  one  or 
two  chapters  a  day  in  my  Bible,  or  a  little  in  one. 
of  Miss  Havergal's  books.  I  have  read  her 
books  so  much  that  I  almost  know  them  by 
heart,  and  yet  they  are  more  beautiful  to  me  all 
the  time."  After  a  pause,  she  continued :  "I  have 
heard  my  sister  speak  of  the  Home  Missionary 
Society  of  your  Church,  and  of  Miss  Nannette 
Huntington.  What  a  wonderful  woman  she 
must  be!  Sister  frequently  attends  her  meet 
ings.  Have  you  ever  met  my  sister,  Mrs.  White? 
Her  home  is  on  Fifth  and  Ashland  Streets,  not 
far  from  the  church." 

"No,  I  have  not  met  her,"  replied  Mrs. 
Munsy;  "but  I  live  only  two  blocks  from  Fifth 
and  Ashland,  and  I  '11  call  to  see  her." 

Just  then  the  sick  woman  in  moving  got 
some  appliance  she  had  about  her  out  of  place 


88         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

thereby  causing  severe  pain.  Her  nurse  came  to 
readjust  it,  and  she  lay  perfectly  quiet  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  said,  much  to  Mrs.  Munsy's 
surprise : 

"The  greatest  joy  humanity  can  know  is  the 
cessation  of  pain." 

"Why,  you  can  not  find  any  joy,  surely,  in 
lying  in  this  bed  even  when  you  are  not  suffer- 
ing." 

"O  yes,  indeed.  When  I  am  not  in  pain  I 
am  unspeakably  thankful  for  the  blessings  I 
have,  and  my  constant  sense  of  gratitude  makes 
me  forget  the  things  I  have  not." 

"I  suppose  you  have  no  husband  or  children," 
said  Mrs.  Munsy. 

"My  husband  is  dead,"  replied  the  lady;  "but 
I  have  two  little  children — one  of  them  a  girl 
eight  years  old,  who  is  with  my  sister,  Mrs. 
White,  and  the  other  a  boy  of  ten,  who  lives  with 
my  aunt  and  uncle  on  their  large  farm.  I  have 
not  seen  him  for  months;  but  I  hear  from  him 
frequently,  and  my  little  girl  comes  often  with 
sister  to  visit  me." 

"Why,  how  can  you  endure  it  to  be  separated 


Mrs.  Munsy' s  Experience  89 

from  them,  and  yet  wear  a  smile  on  your 
face,  too?  That  seems  unnatural  to  me.  I  know 
when  I  am  away  from  Jimmy  or  Mr.  Munsy  for 
a  fortnight  I  feel  as  cross  and  irritable  as  can  be ; 
it  really  makes  me  almost  sick." 

"Well,  if  I  have  any  patience,  it  is  because  I 
have  learned  at  last  the  lesson  of  trusting  my 
Heavenly  Father.  It  took  me  a  long  while  to  get 
to  the  place  where  I  could  give  over  everything 
into  his  hands ;  but  I  believe  by  his  grace  I  have 
gotten  there  at  last.  There  's  a  dear  little  word 
of  Miss  Havergal's,"  she  added,  as  she  took  a 
volume  of  "Kept  for  the  Master's  Use"  from 
under  'her  pillow,  and  opened  it  to  a  place  where 
the  leaf  was  turned  down.  "Won't  you  please 
read  this  for  me  right  along  here?" 

Mrs.  Munsy  read,  and  felt  as  she  did  so  that 
surely  this  woman  Whom  she  had  come  to  help 
was  far  enough  in  advance  of  her  in  the  Chris 
tian  life. 

"I  used  to  think,"  said  the  sick  woman,  when 
Mrs.  Munsy  had  finished,  "that  I  had  a  great 
many  rights,  and  looked  upon  things  from  the 
side  of  justice;  but  now  I  have  learned  that  I 


90         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

have  no  rights  whatever  excepting  the  will  of 
God  for  me." 

They  talked  for  a  half  hour  together.  When 
Mrs.  Munsy  arose  to  go,  the  sick  woman  said: 

"You  must  call  on  my  sister.  I  would  like  to 
have  you  get  acquainted  with  her  and  with  my 
little  girl  too,  and  come  to  see  me  again." 

Mrs.  Munsy  thanked  her,  and  told  her  she 
would  do  so.  She  slipped  her  three  old  books 
under  her  wrap,  and  bidding  her  new  acquaint 
ance  "good-day,"  went  to  speak  to  patients  in 
other  parts  of  the  room.  She  could  not  find  a 
person  to  whom  she  thought  her  books  at  all 
applicable,  but  said  to  herself  it  would  never  do 
to  carry  them  away  back  :home  unlocked  at,  and 
so  the  last  old  lady  with  whom  she  exchanged 
a  few  remarks  was  made  the  recipient  of  the 
three  volumes. 

"You  can  just  look  them  over  at  your  leis 
ure,"  she  said,  and  hurried  out,  feeling  that 
surely  truth  was  stranger  than  fiction. 

The  impression  made  on  her  by  that  first 
visit  to  the  hospital  was  deeper  than  she  knew; 
for,  with  all  Mrs.  Munsy's  worldliness,  she  de- 


Mrs.  Munsy' s  Experience  91 

sired  to  do  right,  and  was  susceptible  to  the  best 
influences.  That  night  at  the  supper-table,  Mr. 
Munsy  remarked  to  her: 

"Well,  Sarah,  how  did  you  and  the  hospital 
get  along  together  to-day?" 

"O,  I  got  there  all  right  if  Mrs.  Hall  did  dis 
appoint  me,  and  I  tell  you,  James,  it  is  not  the 
kind  of  a  place  I  thought  it  was.  Everything 
was  fresh  and  clean  and  airy,  and  the  patients 
looked  clean  and  well-cared  for,  and  they  talked 
about  things  just  like  other  folks!  I  tell  you 
I  was  ashamed  enough  of  the  musty  old  books 
I  carried  with  me." 

"Why,  what  books  did  you  carry?" 

"I  carried  that  old  copy  of  'Pilgrim's  Prog 
ress/  and  'Dissertations  on  Eternal  Punishment,' 
and  pa's  old  volume  of  'Waymarks  in  the  Wil 
derness.'  ' 

This  confession  was  the  occasion  of  an  explo 
sion  of  laughter  on  Mr.  Munsy's  part  that  almost 
made  him  upset  the  cup  of  coffee  at  his  plate. 

"Well,  I  never !"  he  exclaimed.  "Why  did  n't 
you  take  them  a  copy  of  'JosePnus?' ' 

"O,  Mr.  Munsy,  you  can  always  find  some- 


92         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

thing  to  laugh  at  about  everything  I  do.  It  is 
surprising  how  much  laughter  there  is  in  a  man 
that  never  comes  out  except  at  the  expense  of 
his  wife's  feelings.  I  am  sure  you  would  not 
have  known  any  better  than  I  did  if  you  had 
been  a  committee  to  visit  sick  women  at  a  hos 
pital." 

Mr.  Munsy  did  not  notice  this  reference  to 
his  inability  to  minister  to  women  at  a  hospital, 
but  went  on  laughing. 

"Sally,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  '11  send  you  up  a 
new  surrey  to-morrow  if  you  will  go  out  there 
again  and  take  them  some  limburger  cheese  and 
that  head  of  a  skeleton  in  my  closet." 

Mrs.  Munsy  thought  this  a  right  severe  re 
flection  on  her  good  sense,  but  could  not  repress 
a  half  smile  as  she  answered : 

"Never  you  mind,  James  Munsy,  I  '11  pay  you 
back  for  your  smartness  before  you  know  it. 
You  are  often  guilty  of  a  sillier  trick  than  that, 
and  I  will  have  the  laugh  on  you  next  time." 

The  following  day  she  concluded  to  call  at 
Nannette's  home  and  talk  over  the  visit  at  the 
hospital. 


Mrs.  Munsy's  Experience  93 

Nannette  listened  with  much  interest,  and  as 
they  spoke  of  Mrs.  White  she  urged  Mrs.  Munsy 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  that  estimable 
woman,  whom  she  herself  had  known  for  some 
years. 

Soon  after  that  Mrs.  Munsy  called  to  see  Mrs. 
White.  Her  home  was  a  humble  one.  Mrs. 
Munsy  noticed  how  pretty  the  ivy  was  growing 
about  the  small  latticed  porch  as  she  entered, 
and  how  clean  and  simple  everything  was  on  the 
inside.  Mrs.  White  was  an  earnest  Christian, 
and  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  place  was  one 
of  rest  and  peace.  Mrs.  Munsy  felt  it,  and  really 
began  to  long  for  some  friendship  that  did  not 
consist  entirely  of  worldly  matters.  They  talked 
about  the  work  at  East  Street  Mission,  and 
about  the  sister  at  the  hospital ;  how  Tier  life  of 
suffering  had  made  her  beautiful  and  strong  in 
the  love  of  God.  Mrs.  White  was  led  during 
the  conversation  to  tell  a  few  things  from  her 
own  experience,  and  said  she  had  really  never 
known  a  song  of  thanksgiving  until  God  had 
given  it  to  her  in  the  valley  of  Adior — the  place 
of  trial. 


94         Light  Through  Darkened  Windoivs 

This  sounded  very  strange  to  Mrs.  Munsy, 
who  had  lived  a  quiet,  practical  life,  without 
many  "ups"  and  "downs,"  and  had  never  felt  any 
especial  need  of  Divine  help.  When  she  went 
home  that  day  she  said  to  herself  that  she  knew 
she  had  never  had  any  Christian  experience; 
but  the  question  was,  why  had  n't  she?  Was  it 
not  possible  for  her  to  have  an  experience  that 
would  convert  her  humdrum  life  into  a  thing  of 
beauty  for  herself  and  for  others? 

Mrs.  White  soon  returned  her  call,  and  the 
next  time  Mrs.  Munsy  visited  there  she  carried 
home  with  her  a  copy  of  "The  Christian's  Secret 
of  a  Happy  Life."  It  would  have  surprised  one 
who  had  known  her  previously  to  'have  seen  her 
so  earnestly  and  so  eagerly  reading  this  book. 
She  took  one  chapter  at  a  time,  and  read  it  over 
and  over,  and  thought  about  it  until  it  became 
a  part  of  her  own  experience. 

Before  the  month  closed  in  which  she  was 
serving  as  one  of  a  visiting  committee,  she  said 
one  day  she  would  just  hurry  out  to  the  hospital 
for  an  hour  or  two  and  see  Mrs.  Stone.  She 
picked  a  few  of  her  choicest  flowers,  and,  forget- 


Mrs.  Munsy's  Experience  95 

ting  to  attire  herself  in  a  washable  dress,  she 
started.  After  a  delightful  visit  with  her  new 
friend  she  returned  home,  and  there  was  a  light 
ness  and  joy  in  her  heart  somehow  that  was  a 
new  experience  to  her.  She  had  brought  back 
her  old  books,  and  assigned  them  their  proper 
place  in  the  attic.  At  the  next  meeting  of  the 
Home  Missionary  -Society,  Mrs.  Munsy's  report 
was  not  long,  but  it  made  an  impression  that  was 
felt  by  every  one  present. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  life  for  her. 
She  found  it  much  more  agreeable  as  time  went 
on  to  visit  at  Mrs.  White's  than  with  other 
women,  where  only  local  gossip  was  heard,  and, 
as  her  friendship  for  Mrs.  White  grew,  her  inner 
life  became  broadened  and  deepened,  and  she 
became  a  true  seeker  after  God.  That  fall  her 
husband  said  to  her  one  evening: 

"Sarah,  my  dear,  you  have  not  mentioned  sur 
rey  for  some  months;  but  I  'had  not  forgotten 
it,  and  to-morrow  you  will  have  one  sent  up  that 
I  think  will  be  to  your  liking." 

"O  James,  that  is  very  kind  indeed;  but  I 
do  n't  feel  like  letting  you  spend  that  much 


96         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

money  on  a  little  selfish  pleasure  for  me.  I  am 
so  well  and  strong  and  enjoy  walking  so  much, 
and  there  are  other  things  we  need  more.  Can't 
I  just  have  the  money,  instead,  to  use  as  I  think 
best?" 

"Why,  how  is  this,  Sarah?"  exclaimed  her 
astonished  husband.  "I  thought  you  had 
wanted  this  for  so  long,  and  I  can  afford  it  now. 
I  would  rather  you  would  have  it  than  not." 

"Well,  James  dear,  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I 
do  n't  care  for  things  in  just  the  way  I  used  to. 
My  wants  have  drawn  in  in  some  directions,  and 
spread  out  in  others.  I  should  be  very  glad  if 
I  could  use  some  money  to  help  a  few  persons 
not  far  away,  who  I.  know  are  actually  suffering 
for  the  necessities  of  life.  I  think  of  things  every 
day  that  I  should  like  to  use  money  for.  The 
horse  and  surrey  might  give  us  some  pleasure, 
but  we  really  do  not  need  it.  You  are  at  your 
business  every  day,  and  Jimmy  is  at  school. 
May  I  not  just  have  the  money  to  divide  up  for 
other  things?" 

"Well,  Sarah,  this  is  right  sudden,  sure;  but 
I  suppose  if  you  do  n't  want  the  surrey  the 


Mrs.  Munsy's  Experience  97 

» 
worth  of  it  is  yours.    Women  folks  are  strange 

things.    They  can't  keep  in  the  same  mind  over 
night." 

Had  Mr.  Munsy  noticed  any  difference  in  his 
wife  during  the  last  few  months?  If  so,  he  was 
not  conscious  of  it;  for  although  he  twitted  her 
good-naturedly  at  times,  she  had  always  just 
suited  him,  and  it  would  not  have  been  possible 
for  him  to  make  a  real  complaint  about  his  wife. 
Her  son,  however,  had  noticed  a  marked  change 
in  her  talks  with  him,  and,  best  of  all,  she  knew 
in  her  own  heart  that  God  had  spoken  to  her, 
and  she  'had  heard  :his  voice  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life. 

Frequently  now  she  might  be  seen  in  her 
leisure  hours  carrying  something  palatable  and 
dainty  to  a  sick  friend,  or  to  homes  of  the  poor. 
There  was  more  than  one  home  of  poverty  where 
the  sight  of  her  cheery  face  and  strong  hands 
was  welcome.  She  chanced  to  meet  one  day  a 
poor  girl  who  was  inquiring  for  work  for  her 
father,  and  in  the  home  of  that  girl  she  found 
abundant  opportunity  for  her  generosity  and 
warm-iheartedness. 
7 


98         Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

When  she  first  went  to  that  home  it  was  late 
in  the  afternoon,  and  inside  the  'house  it  looked 
dark,  except  for  the  glimmer  of  a  little  fire  on 
the  open  hearth.  A  middle-aged  man  was 
crouched  over  it  with  his  head  in  'his  hands  and 
his  elbows  on  his  knees.  He  was  looking 
straight  into  the  flickering  blaze,  and  his  breast 
heaved  with  emotion.  The  daughter  stepped 
into  an  adjoining  room  to  get  a  small  lamp,  and 
began  busying  herself  to  prepare  their  scanty 
meal.  Mrs.  Munsy  spoke  cheerily  to  the  man, 
and  told  him  she  had  heard  he  wanted  work,  and 
had  called  to  see  if  she  could  do  anything  to 
assist  him. 

"O,"  he  said,  startled  out  of  'his  reverie,  "I 
did  n't  suppose  anybody —  I  just  can't  get  a 
job — that 's  the  bother  of  it.  Mary,  set  the  lady 
a  chair.  Will  you  set  down,  ma'am?  You  see, 
I  had  three  fellers  to  promise  me  work  fur  this 
week,  an'  ever'  last  one  of  'em  has  gone  back 
on  it.  I  've  mighty  nigh  tromped  my  legs  off  in 
the  cold  to-day  huntin'  work,  and  could  n't  git 
enough  to  earn  a  copper." 

"What  work  can  you  do?"  asked  Mrs.  Munsy. 


Mrs.  Munsy's  Experience  99 

"Well,  I  had  a  job  at  the  paper-mills  fur  over 
two  year,  but  one  night  the  boss  came  an' 
turned  off  fifty  hands  of  us  without  givin'  any 
reason  or  warnin',  an'  sense  then  I  've  ben 
turnin'  my  hand  to  anything  to  make  a  livin'." 

As  he  arose  and  looked  straight  at  her,  she 
noticed  how  slight  his  figure  was,  and  how 
pinched  his  features.  He  was  not  an  ordinary- 
looking  man.  He  looked  as  if  some  tragic  his 
tory  might  lay  behind  that  brow,  furrowed  more 
by  experience  than  age.  Mrs.  Munsy  was  not  a 
person,  however,  to  become  weak  in  the  presence 
of  poverty.  To  her  practical  mind  such  things 
must  be  faced,  and  assistance  rendered  wherever 
possible,  without  spending  time  in  trying  to  un 
derstand  the  reason  for  things.  She  offered  the 
man  two  dollars ;  but  "he  would  not  accept  it  as 
a  gift.  She  then  promised  to  let  him  do  some 
work  on  her  place  for  it,  and  said  she  would  come 
to  see  them  again,  and  do  all  she  could  to  assist 
in  getting  him  work.  It  was  not  long  before  she 
found  employment  for  his  daughter,  who  proved 
to  be  a  really  noble-hearted  girl.  She  scarcely 
ever  made  any  reference  to  her  mother,  and 


ioo      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

when  she  did,  it  was  only  to  show  that  her  sym 
pathies  were  entirely  with  her  father. 

"My  father,"  she  said  one  day  to  Mrs.  Munsy, 
in  answer  to  some  question  regarding  her  early 
life,  "has  been  the  best  man  and  had  the  hardest 
time  of  anybody  I  ever  saw." 

"Well,  Mary,"  Mrs.  Munsy  responded,  "you 
be  a  brave  girl,  and  when  your  father  gets  a  good 
jab  again  you  two  can  get  along  swimmingly." 

Mrs.  Munsy  reported  his  case  to  the  Home 

Missionary  Society  of  the  Church,  and  she,  with 

a  number  of  other  ladies,  succeeded  in  getting 

*  him  as  much  work  as  he  could  do-  all  that  winter. 

Several  times  she  took  Nannette  with  her  to 
visit  them,  and  that  always  meant  a  season  of 
prayer  and  a  Scripture  lesson.  Frequently,  too, 
it  was  Nannette's  custom  in  visiting  the  poor  to 
leave  behind  her  some  gift,  and  she  did  it  in  so 
delicate  a  manner,  and  with  so  much  tact,  that 
it  gave  no  offense.  No  one  until  that  winter  had 
ever  talked  to  the  poor  man  and  his  daughter 
about  God  and  a  religious  life.  It  was  like  the 
opening  of  a  new  window  to  his  soul.  He  began 
to  desire  to  know  about  the  Christian  life,  and 


Mrs.  Munsy's  Experience  101 

in  his  plain  way  to  try  to  adjust  himself  to  it. 
He  seemed  extremely  distressed  and  burdened 
by  the  memory  of  a  dark  past.  Evil  fortunes 
had  made  him  the  victim  of  many  mistakes,  and 
these  mistakes  had  brought  ruin  and  disaster  to 
others  never  intended  by  him.  Yet  as  the  light 
of  Divine  truth  was  turned  in  upon  his  poor 
heart,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  alone  was  to 
blame  for  all  the  sin  and  grief  that  had  weighed 
down  his  own  life  and  the  lives  of  others  con 
nected  with  him.  He  would  walk  up  and  down 
his  room,  and  think  -his  own  thoughts  in  his  own 
way.  We  should  not  suppose  they  were  remark 
able  thoughts ;  he  did  not  look  like  a  remarkable 
man ;  but  what  passed  with  him  in  that  undiscov 
ered  sea  which  we  call  a  man's  soul  it  would  not 
be  easy  to  assert.  So  far  as  could  be  judged 
from  the  actions  of  his  life,  all  the  currents  of 
ihis  nature  had  swelled  into  the  great  pulsing 
tide  of  self-surrender  which  swept  him  along. 
He  was  willing,  he  said,  to  take  any  place  and  do 
anything,  if  only  the  past  could  be  forgiven. 

A  sinful  character  may  be  as  callous  as  a  para 
lyzed  limb ;  a  sinful  and  repentant  one  is  in  itself 


iO2       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

an  independent  system  of  sensitive  and  tortured 
nerves.  For  so  many  years  he  -had  lived  alone 
with  his  sorrow,  that  now,  as  he  was  learning  the 
way  of  prayer,  he  would  shut  himself  up  and 
address  God  with  a  sublime  familiarity  whidh 
had  in  it  no  irreverence. 

"O  God  Almighty !"  he  would  pray,  "my  life 
has  been  a  poor  excuse  of  a  thing.  If  I  had 
given  it  to  you  to  begin  with,  you  might  have 
made  somethin'  out  of  it ;  but  I  did  n't  do  it. 
That  was  n't  your  fault.  If  you  Ml  just  blot 
out  the  past — blot  it  all  out  and  forgive  it,  O 
God  Almighty,  an'  save  my  child !  Do  n't  let 
the  sins  o'  her  parents  rest  on  her.  She  's  a 
good  gal,  Lord,  if  I  do  say  it.  I  'd  be  willin' 
to  lay  down  my  life  fur  her.  Give  her  a  chance. 
Do  n't  let  some  cussed  feller  entice  her  off. 
Make  these  good  women's  hearts  warm  towards 
her.  As  fur  me,  jest  forgive  the  past.  Blot  it  all 
out.  I  do  n't  care  whut  comes  of  me,  only  keep 
your  eye  on  my  child,  O  God  Almighty!" 

He  always  felt  better  after  he  had  prayed 
about  her.  There  was  balm  in  the  very  thought 
of  God  caring  for  his  child.  It  was  like  a  refresh- 


Mrs.  Munsy's  Experience  103 

ing1  draught  to  his  parched  soul,  and  it  left  him 
calm  and  at  rest. 

One  bitter  cold  night  he  was  hurrying  home, 
after  having  carried  to  a  safe  shelter  a  little  boy 
who  would  otherwise  have  frozen,  when  he  felt 
sharp  pains  in  his  lungs  and  through  his  chest, 
which  were  only  too  clear  an  indication  K>f  what 
must  follow.  For  ten  days  after  this  he  was  racked 
with  pain,  and  often  delirious.  His  daughter 
sent  word  to  Mrs.  Munsy,  and  she  went  regularly 
to  their  home.  Mr.  Munsy's  heaviest  flannels 
were  put  to  service,  and  every  hot  and  healing 
application  her  brain  could  devise  was  used ;  but 
to  no  avail.  The  physician  who  had  been  sum 
moned  said  he  could  not  possibly  live. 

One  afternoon,  wfhen  he  was  alone  with  his 
daughter,  he  felt  that  his  last  hours  had  come. 

"Did  you  ever  pray,  Mary?"  he  said  to  his 
child.  "I  've  not  lived  over-well,  Mary ;  but 
may  be  God  '11  forgive  me,  after  all." 

She  only  sobbed  a  reply. 

"Mary,"  said  the  poor  fellow  again  in  his 
weak  voice,  "did  you  ever  pray?" 

"Yes,  father,  when  I  was  a  little  bit  o'  girl.    I 


IO4       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

went  to  Sunday-school — do  n't  you  remem 
ber? — when  the  bells  was  ringin',  and  I  think  I 
prayed ;  but  that  was  so  long  ago,  father.  I  've 
been  trying  to  pray  lately,  too,  sence  the  kind 
women  have  been  comin'  here.  Shall  I  go  after 
Mrs.  Munsy  now?" 

"No,  do  n't  leave  me,  child.  If  God  Almighty 
wants  her  to  come,  he  '11  send  her,  I  reckon." 

The  day  was  cold  and  bleak.  A  heavy 
snow  had  fallen,  and  toward  nightfall  the 
wind  arose.  Sometimes  its  dismal  wail  seemed 
to  run  around  the  house.  The  sick  man  was 
tossing  upon  his  bed,  and  Mary  was  rocking 
by  his  side.  All  else  was  still.  Then  a  step 
was  heard  on  the  crisp  snow  outside,  and  a  knock 
at  the  door.  The  sick  man  tried  to  raise  his 
head.  In  a  moment  the  latch  was  lifted,  and 
Mrs.  Munsy  entered  the  room. 

"I  Ve  come  to  help  take  care  of  you  to 
night,"  she  said  to  the  sick  man. 

"O,  I  was  jest  thinkin'  of  you,  an'  I  thought 
maybe  God  would  send  you  in  this  dark  hour, 
though  I  'm  noways  worthy  of  it.  Yes,  God  is 
fair.  As  far  as  I  can  tell,  he  means  well." 


Mrs.  Munsy's  Experience  105 

Mrs.  Munsy  undid  her  heavy  wrap,  and  threw 
it  over  a  chair.  She  stirred  the  fire  and  made 
it  burn  brightly.  The  bed-covers,  which  had 
been  dragged  away  in  the  restlessness  of  the  suf 
ferer,  she  spread  afresh.  Reaching  over  the  bed, 
she  raised  the  sick  man's  head  tenderly  while 
she  beat  out  his  pillow.  As  it  grew  dark  she 
lit  a  small  lamp  that  stood  at  hand,  went  to  the 
cupboard  in  the  adjoining  kitchen,  and  took  out 
a  jar  of  barley,  and  then  to  the  stove  and  took 
up  a  saucepan.  Within  five  minutes  she  was 
boiling  something.  The  young  girl  followed  her 
every  movement  with  watchful  eyes.  Presently 
she  came  to  the  bedside  again  with  a  small  dish 
in  her  hand. 

"Take  a  little  of  this,"  she  said ;  "your  mouth 
is  parched." 

"How  did  you  know?"  he  asked,  lifting  his 
eyes  to  hers. 

She  made  no  reply,  but  held  her  cool  hand  on 
his  burning  forehead.  She  put  another  spoonful 
of  barley-water  to  his  lips.  He  was  like  a  child, 
and  did  as  she  directed. 

She  staid  there  all  night,  and  tried  to  soothe 


106      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

the  cries  of  a  poor  desolate  soul  face  to  face 
with  the  last  great  reality.  She  had  never 
before  heard  her  own  voice  in  prayer;  but  she 
prayed  that  night  with  great  earnestness  for  his 
salvation,  until  at  last  a  look  of  peace  came  over 
his  face,  and  he  said  in  a  broken  whisper,  "O  yes, 
the  Almighty  has  forgiven  me,  and  he  '11 — save — 
my— child!" 

The  dawn  came  at  last.  Its  faint  streak  of 
light  crept  lazily  in  at  the  curtainless  window, 
and  as  it  lightened  the  little  room  the  man's  soul 
was  illumined  with  the  light  of  the  Infinite,  and 
his  body  sank  into  a  deep  sleep.  The  angel  of 
the  Lord  had  visited  that  humble  dwelling 
among  the  desolate  hills. 

From  that  time  Mary  went  to  Mrs.  Munsy's 
home,  and  became  a  loved  member  of  her  house 
hold;  and  Mrs.  Munsy  felt  she  owed  the  serv 
ice  of  a  lifetime  to  the  God  Who  had  directed  her 
steps  so  wondrously  ever  since  the  first  day 
she  gave  herself  unreservedly  to  him. 


v 

NANNETTE  IN  THE  HOME 

"So  I  am  watching  quietly 

Every  day. 
Whenever  the  sun  shines  brightly, 

I  arise  and  say : 

'Surely  it  is  the  shining  of  His  face.' 
And  look  unto  the  gates  of  His  high  place 

Beyond  the  sea ; 
For  I  know  He  is  coming  shortly 

To  summon  me. 
And  when  a  shadow  falls  across  the  window 

Of  my  room, 

Where  I  am  working  at  my  appointed  task, 
I  lift  my  head  to  watch  the  door,  and  ask 

If  He  is  come; 
And  the  angel  answers  sweetly 

In  my  home : 

'Only  a  few  more  shadows, 
And  He  will  come.'  " 

— MRS.  B.  MCANDREW. 

NANNETTE  was  permitted  to  spend  eight  years 
in  active  Christian  service.  The  months  that 
passed  in  her  life  after  that  seem  to  me,  as  I 
look  back  at  them  through  the  vista  of  distant 
years,  like  some  beautiful  dream. 

She  had  been  obliged  to  give  up  her  work  at 
107 


io8       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

the  mission  and  other  places,  and  to  remain 
in  her  home.  Her  strong  spirit  cast  a  radiance 
there  that  converted  it  into  a  veritable  sanctuary. 
Her  brothers  were  away  from  the  city  that  year, 
and  only  her  father  and  myself  were  with  her. 
She  would  not  let  me  leave  'her,  and  sometimes 
I  spent  months  together  in  the  dear  old  home. 
Her  strength  left  her  almost  entirely  that 
summer,  and  we  knew  she  could  not  remain 
with  us  long,  yet  it  was  impossible  to  feel  op 
pressed,  or  even  sad,  in  her  presence.  She 
seemed  like  a  spirit  from  the  better  world,  so  still 
and  full  of  life.  How  well  I  remember  it  all, 
now  that  it  has  gone  from  me  forever,  those 
peaceful  days  when  I  was  only  too  glad  to 
lighten  her  correspondence  and  other  duties 
that  I  knew  were  becoming  a  weight  to  her 
failing  strength!  Yet  she  still  prepared  her 
Bible-readings,  no  matter  what  the  weakness  of 
her  body.  She  was  no  longer  able  to  go  to 
the  mission  and  do  work  there;  but  workers 
from  there  came  to  her  to  get  her  advice  and 
help.  Through  the  influence  of  her  Bible-read 
ings,  two  industrial  schools  had  been  opened 


Nannette  in  the  Home  109 

in  different  parts  of  the  city,  and  much  of  the 
work  had  been  practically  carried  on  by  her. 
Reports  of  these  were  still  sent  in  to  her,  and 
all  felt  the  need  and  wisdom  of  her  counsel. 

It  was  a  constant  joy  to  her  to  hear  of  the 
success  of  the  work.  She  literally  lived  for 
others.  Things  sometimes  happened  that 
would  have  discouraged  a  less  trustful  soul,  but 
she  refused  to  be  discouraged. 

Every  morning  she  arose  early,  and  spent 
the  first  hour  of  the  day  with  her  Bible  in  com 
munion  with  God.  She  said  she  must  have  that 
sweet  hour  to  start  off  the  day.  She  always 
had  arranged  'her  time  systematically,  so  that 
one  was  never  impressed  with  her  being  hurried. 
Things  seemed  to  move  leisurely  about  the 
home. 

One  day  she  was  sitting  in  her  invalid  chair 
on  the  velvety  lawn,  dressed  in  white,  with  a 
book  lying  open  in  her  lap.  One  hand  rested 
on  the  book,  while  the  other  dropped  carelessly 
over  the  arm  of  her  chair.  Her  eyes  were 
turned  upward,  and  I  thought,  as  I  looked  at 
her  from  the  window  of  my  room,  I  had  never 


no      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

seen  her  so  beautiful  before.  When,  at  last,  I 
went  out,  and  disturbed  her  reverie  by  going 
up  behind  her,  she  clasped  my  arms  about  her 
neck,  and  drew  my  face  down  to  hers.  After 
a  moment  I  said,  "What  book  is  that  you  have, 
dear?" 

"This  life  of  Bella  Cooke,  'Rifted  Clouds/  " 
she  answered,  taking  up  the  book,  while  I 
went  around  and  sat  down  on  the  grass  beside 
her.  "What  a  remarkable  woman  she  is! 
What  a  revelation  of  God's  grace  and  power  in 
a  human  life  is  recorded  here!  He  could  not 
have  dealt  with  many  as  he  dealt  with  her.  I 
have  such  an  admiration  for  people  who  have 
a  determinate  purpose  in  their  faith,  and  who 
overcome  untoward  circumstances.  It  seems 
very  wonderful  to  me  that  she  could  have  reared 
her  children  when  in  such  poverty  and  weak 
ness,  and  carried  on  her  Christian  work  from  a 
bed  of  suffering." 

"Well,  you  have  reared  some  children  too," 
I  said. 

She  smiled,  and  answered:  "O,  my  spiritual 
children,  you  mean!  Well,  yes;  they  are  real 


Nannette  in  the  Home  in 

relationships  too.  I  can  not  tell  you  how  I  love 
every  one  of  them.  I  know  the  dates  of  their 
birth,  and  how  old  they  are,  and  how  fast  they 
grow,  and  to  which  ones  I  give  the  'milk  of 
the  Word,'  and  which  can  take  the  'strong 
meat/  How  tenderly  some  of  them  have  to  be 
nurtured,  Jean !  They  are  so  helpless.  You  '11 
have  to  take  my  place  with  them  before  a  great 
while." 

"  O  no,  Nannette;  I  never,  never  could." 

"Well,  if  you  must  go  otherwhere,  God  will 
raise  up  some  one  else.  Yes,  indeed;  he  raised 
me  up,  and  he  will  raise  up  another." 

Just  then  her  father  came  down  the  walk, 
with  her  light  wrap  on  his  arm. 

"Daughter,"  he  said,  throwing  it  gently 
across  her  shoulders,  "it  is  getting  cool  now. 
Let  me  roll  you  in." 

"Dear  father,  how  thoughtful  you  are!  But 
I  have  not  felt  cool.  The  breezes  feel  like  fresh 
caresses;  spirit-caresses,  you  know,"  she  added, 
laughing;  "the  flesh  profiteth  nothing." 

"Ah,  Nannette,"  he  said,  fondly,  "it  profits 
everything  to  me  to  have  you  in  the  flesh." 


Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

"But,  father,  the  tie  between  us  is  stronger 
than  death,"  she  answered,  seriously. 

He  only  sighed. 

"Father,  I  am  sure  you  are  going  to  believe 
this,"  she  continued,  looking  earnestly  into  his 
face  when  he  had  rolled  her  chair  into  the 
library,  and  was  standing  by  her.  "When  you 
do  n't  see  this  shell  of  me  being  carried  about 
by  my  spirit  any  longer,  I  '11  be  so  close  to  you 
that  your  thoughts  can  even  speak  to  me." 

"You  are  growing  more  and  more  every 
day  like" — his  eyes  filled  with  tears — "your 
sainted  mother." 

"That  is  just  what  you  want,  dear  father; 
and  have  you  not  felt  her  very  close  to  you 
during  these  past  nine  years?" 

He  did  not  answer  immediately;  but  pres 
ently,  r.s  he  walked  out  of  the  room,  he  said  in 
a  low  voice,  "Yes,  at  times  I  have." 

Nannette  sat  frequently  near  the  large  bay- 
window  that  was  heavily  draped  in  the  white 
clematis-vine,  and  enriched  with  the  breath  of 
its  blossoms.  From  there  she  could  look  out 
on  the  sea,  and  listen  to  the  distant  music  of 


Nannette  in  the  Home  113 

the  waters.  She  was  sitting  there  one  morn 
ing  in  her  simple  white  wrapper,  with  its  lace' 
trimming  falling  soft  about  her  white  neck  and 
hands,  when  I  entered  the  room  somewhat 
perturbed  because  of  my  inability  to  get  per 
sons  to  do  things  I  wanted  to  have  done. 

The  moment  I  contemplated  her,  my  con 
science  gave  me  a  sting ;  for  during  those  years 
my  life  was  crowded  full  of  blessings,  and  I 
knew  it. 

"You  look  so  perfectly  radiant,"  I  said,  "sit 
ting  there;  and  here  I  am,  ten  times  as  strong 
as  you  are,  and  yet — " 

I  did  not  finish  my  sentence.  She  was  so 
sweet,  and  spoke  so  graciously  as  she  looked  out 
on  the  beauties  of  nature. 

"O,  I  love  everything,  Jeanie,  from  the  dew- 
drop  to  the  stars." 

I  threw  myself  on  a  sofa  that  was  behind 
her,  and  shut  out  with  its  soft  cushions  the 
vision  of  everything.  She  went  on  meditatively : 

"I  used  to  try  to  look  up  to  God  through 
nature;  but  he  has  just  reversed  my  vision,  and 
I  see  all  things  now  through  him  and  his  love. 


ii4       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

Can't  you  hear  the  music  of  nature  this  morn 
ing?  Everything  is  in  tune  singing  a  hallelujah 
chorus. 

'From  the  billowy  green  beneath  me 

To  the  fathomless  blue  above, 
The  creatures  of  God  are  happy 

In  the  warmth  of  their  summer  love. 
The  Infinite  bliss  of  Nature, 

I  can  feel  in  every  vein, 
The  light  and  the  life  of  summer, 

Blossom  in  heart  and  brain.' " 

"But,  Nannette,"  I  said  at  last,  as  I  sat  up 
and  followed  the  direction  of  her  eyes,  "how 
people  mar  God's  creation !" 

"O,  let 's  love  them,  Jean.  As  some  one  has 
said,  'Humanity  is  a  race  of  insane  angels,  and 
some  day  will  be  restored  to  sanity  and  love.' 
God  is  in  the  race,  and  he  is  stronger  than  his 
enemies.  There 's  nothing  like  love.  The 
world  has  not  fathomed  it  yet.  It  is  some  great, 
strange,  potent  force  that  we  only  get  the  re 
flection  from  down  here.  How  beautiful  it 
will  be  some  time  just  to  be  enveloped  in  it, 
and  know  nothing  else!  Sometimes,  dearie,  I 
can  hardly  wait." 

I  said  nothing  further,  and  she  went  on  say- 


Nannette  in  the  Home  115 

ing  beautiful  and  tender  things  that  rested  my 
spirit  like  strains  of  music.  Finally  I  got  up  and 
said,  as  I  stooped  and  kissed  her  hair: 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  I  have  been  doing? 
You  are  to  have  a  little  surprise  party 
this  afternoon.  I  '11  tell  you  now,  so  you  can 
get  ready  to  be  surprised!  There  will  be  a 
score  and  more  of  persons  who  will  sip  the 
honey  of  this  place  from  two  to  five.  What  do 
you  say  to  that?" 

"Well,  I  am  surprised,"  she  answered,  smil 
ing,  and  looking  up  with  questioning  eyes.  "I 
thought  my  party  days  were  over  long 
years  ago." 

"Well,  this  may  not  resemble  the  parties  of 
long  ago  in  some  respects,  but  I  '11  warrant  it 
will  in  merriment,"  and  out  I  went  to  take  up 
my  line  of  preparations  again,  but  with  much 
better  cheer.  By  chance  or  by  some  mysterious 
law  that  makes  even  little  things  work  better, 
the  moment  we  attempt  them  with  a  spirit  of 
pleasant  assurance,  everything  I  turned  my 
hand  to  now  began  to  work  successfully.  The 
florist,  for  whom  I  had  been  waiting  rather  im- 


n6       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

patiently,  came  and  brought  exactly  the  flowers 
and  plants  I  wanted;  and  the  belated  dairyman 
drove  up;  and  the  cook,  who  had  been  inclined 
to  irritability,  began  humming  a  little  song; 
and  life  ran  smooth  as  a  May  morning. 

Nannette  had  always  given  a  Thanksgiving 
dinner  to  her  children,  as  she  called  them;  but  I 
feared  she  would  not  spend  another  Thanks 
giving  with  us,  and  I  wanted  to  see  her  again 
amid  a  throng  of  happy  children.  So  I  had 
planned  this  beautiful  July  day  for  the  occasion. 

At  two  o'clock  she  was  sitting  on  the  front 
veranda,  with  a  dainty  pink  gown  on,  her  father 
had  bought  for  her,  and  a  bunch  of  rosebuds 
in  her  dark-brown  hair.  She  looked  very  sweet 
and  expectant  when  a  large  band-wagon  drove 
up,  and  a  perfect  bevy  of  children  in  white  came 
running  and  flying  up  the  walk  to  greet  her. 

Some  moved  slower  because  they  were  help 
ing  invalid  children.  Two  little  adjustable 
chairs  were  lifted  out,  and  children  who  could 
not  walk  were  rolled  in  them.  Others  were 
being  assisted  by  willing  little  hands  of  robust 
children.  So  altogether  there  was  a  stream  and 


Nannette  in  the  Home  117 

flutter  of  white  beauty  leading  all  the  way  from 
the  gate  to  the  veranda.  Immediately  upon 
their  arrival,  the  laughter  and  playing  and  rol 
licking  began. 

"O  how  lovely  you  all  are !"  she  said.  "You 
quite  overwhelm  me." 

They  climbed  about  her  chair,  and  covered 
her  with  caresses  until  I  gently  remonstrated, 
saying,  "Be  careful,  you  will  suffocate  her." 

"O,"  she  laughed,  "wouldn't  it  be  delight 
ful  to  be  suffocated  in  this  way — baby  fingers, 
baby  kisses !  Let 's  have  more  of  it ;"  and  they 
screamed  and  laughed  and  lovingly  dispersed 
with  that  fine  instinct  that  belongs  to  child 
hood. 

She  was  rolled  out  on  the  lawn  into  the  midst 
of  them,  and  it  was  not  long  until  they  all  be 
came  engaged  in  various  kinds  of  games.  The 
little  invalid  children  remained  close  by  her,  but 
all  took  some  part  in  the  games.  Then  came  the 
songs — bird  songs,  flower  songs,  tree  songs,  and 
boat  songs.  After  each  song  they  would  clap 
their  hands  and  encore  themselves,  until  they 
were  in  high  glee. 


n8       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

One  song  that  was  a  universal  favorite  was 
called  "The  Cuckoo  Song."  Almost  every  child 
was  familiar  with  it. 

"Where  art  thou,  O  my  bird,  where  art  thou  flying, 

Over  the  buttercup  hill? — 

Say,  art  thou,  in  thy  wild  flight,  from  me  hieing 
Swift  to  the  road  or  the  rill? 

Cuckoo !  cuckoo !  cuckoo !  cuckoo ! 
Over  the  buttercup  hill. 

O  sweet  bird,  O  sweet  bird,  from  my  sight  faded, 

Now  can  I  see  thee  no  more ; 
Gone,  like  the  light  which  a  tempest  has  shaded, 

Lost,  like  a  wave  on  the  shore. 

There  thou  art  once  again,  calling  and  dancing 

Like  a  wild  fay  in  thy  flight! 
Out  of  the  gloom  of  the  cedar  boughs  glancing, 

With  a  clear  note  of  delight. 

Cuckoo !  cuckoo  !  cuckoo  !  cuckoo ! 
Over  the  buttercup  hill." 

The  neighborhood  rang  with  their  voices, 
and  the  old  trees  in  the  yard  seemed  holding 
their  breath  to  listen. 

About  three  o'clock,  we  all  adjourned  to  the 
large,  old  dining-room.  Several  young  lady 
friends  were  present,  and  assisted  in  arranging 
the  children  at  the  table.  The  dining-room 


Nannette  in  the  Home  119 

looked  very  handsome  with  its  solid  mahogany 
furniture  and  decorations  of  green;  the  tall 
sideboard  holding  pieces  of  old  china  and 
silver  that  had  belonged  to  Nannette's  mother 
and  grandmother ;  the  cut-glass  on  shelves  made 
into  the  wall  on  an  opposite  side  of  the  room, 
partially  veiled  by  dainty  curtains;  and  the 
heavy  extension-table  in  the  center  of  the  room. 

Here  was  spread,  that  memorable  day,  on 
a  cloth  of  snowy  linen,  fruits,  cakes,  ices,  and 
knickknacks.  Each  dainty  plate  had  by  it  a 
tiny  bouquet,  and  I  had  arranged  in  the  center 
of  the  table  smilax  and  forget-me-nots  to  form 
the  letters,  I.  H.  N.  (In  His  Name). 

We  spent  almost  an  hour  at  the  table  in 
pleasant  conversation  with  the  little  ones,  after 
which  we  went  into  the  music-room,  and  Nan 
nette  insisted  on  my  playing.  I  played  a  Polacca 
Brilliante  of  Weber's,  and  one  or  two  of  Mendels 
sohn's  "Songs  without  Words."  The  children 
were  appreciative  listeners,  and  after  I  had  fin 
ished  they  wanted  to  hear  Nannette  sing.  I 
knew  she  could  no  longer  sing  much,  but  to 
please  them,  she  gave  them  several  lullaby  songs. 


I2O       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

We  then  went  out  on  the  lawn  again,  and  at  the 
suggestion  of  one  of  the  children  we  began  to 
make  clover-wreaths. 

The  prettiest  one,  in  which  were  intertwined 
smilax  and  rosebuds,  was  given  to  Nannette; 
but  she  gently  lifted  it  off  her  own  head,  and 
placed  it  on  that  of  a  little  hunchbacked  child 
near  her,  who  was  not  blessed  with  a  handsome 
face  any  more  than  with  a  straight  figure. 

"I  want  this  wreath,"  she  said,  "in  a  place 
where  I  can  look  at  it  all  the  time,  and  so  I  '11 
put  it  on  the  head  of  little  Alice.  How  perfectly 
it  fits  her  too !" 

The  child  looked  up  with  a  great  gratitude 
in  her  face  for  the  love  of  this  woman,  who 
seemed  to  her  like  some  fairy  goddess  she  had 
read  about. 

"Now,"  said  Nannette,  "if  you  '11  all  sit  down 
in  front  of  me  on  the  grass,  and  be  very  still, 
I  '11  tell  you  a  story." 

"O  yes,  yes,  a  story !"  they  cried.  "Let 's 
have  two  of  'em." 

First  she  told  them  a  funny  story,  which  she 
called,  "The  Three-legged  Dancers."  They 


Nannette  in  the  Home  121 

laughed  heartily  at  that,  and  then  some  of  them 
said,  "Let 's  have  a  long  story,  and  a  good  one 
that  we  will  always  remember." 

She  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said :  "Well, 
I  believe  I  will  tell  you  a  missionary  story,  a 
story  of  a  girl  away  over  in  India;  shall  I?  It 
is  one  of  my  very  dearest  stories,  and  it  is  all 
true." 

"O,  that  will  be  fine!"  they  said,  as  they 
perched  themselves  down  in  little  patches  on 
the  grass  in  front  of  her,  several  of  the  boys  pre 
ferring  limbs  of  the  great  tree  at  her  side,  but 
all  fixing  their  eyes  intently  on  her  as  she 
began : 

"Away  over  in  far  India,  not  many  years  ago, 
there  was  a  mission  school  being  taught  by  some 
good  Christian  women  who  had  gone  from  this 
country  to  do  what  they  could  to  help  save  the 
women  and  children  of  India.  After  long 
months  of  patient  labor,  some  of  the  heathen 
women  and  girls  did  begin  to  attend  the  zenana 
gatherings,  as  they  were  called,  in  the  mission- 
house  of  the  teachers,  and  to  learn  a  few  things 
concerning  the  Bible  and  the  Christian's  God. 


123       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

But  these  women  of  India  were  all  Brahmans — 
that  is,  they  worshiped  Brahma,  their  god,  and 
were  great  idolaters.  Brahmans,  you  must 
know,  keep  themselves  apart  from  all  others, 
and  are  counted  as  the  lords  of  their  religion. 
They  do  not  consider  anybody  who  is  not  of 
their  religion  fit  to  touch  them.  One  of  them 
said  one  day,  when  she  had  just  finished  her  de 
votions  to  her  idol,  'If  the  Queen  of  England 
comes  now  to  my  house,  she  can  not  touch  me; 
for  she  eats  flesh.' 

"Even  after  the  members  of  a  Brahman  house 
had  learned  to  love  two  of  our  mission  teachers, 
and  these  teachers  were  allowed  to  sit  in  a  small 
room  at  the  outer  threshold  of  their  house,  while 
their  pupil  sat  within,  in  order  for  the  teachers 
to  give  the  lessons,  the  books  had  to  be  thrown 
to  each  other;  for  they  would  not  take  a  book 
from  the  hand  of  a  missionary. 

"They  have  very  queer  ways  over  there. 
They  are  so  particular  in  their  ideas  of  cleanli 
ness  that  when  they  eat  they  break  their  food, 
and  throw  it,  piece  by  piece,  into  their  mouths, 
never  letting  their  hands  touch  their  mouths. 


Nannette  in  the  Home  123 

If  any  of  them  passed  our  teachers  in  the  streets, 
they  would  draw  aside  their  clothing  for  fear  of 
touching  them. 

"Well,  one  young  girl  of  whom  I  am  going 
to  tell  you,  was  the  daughter  of  a  very  wealthy 
and  influential  Brahman.  He  was  very  learned, 
and  had  a  great  deal  of  influence  among  his 
people.  While,  as  a  Brahman,  he  could  not  par 
take  of  food  with  Europeans  nor  entertain  them 
under  his  own  roof,  yet  he  often  rented  halls,  and 
gave  banquets  to  the  Honorable  Members  of 
Council  who  came  to  India  from  England. 

"His  lovely  child  was  brought  up  in  great 
seclusion,  and  taught  'to  live  a  life  of  idolatry. 
At  the  age  of  ten  years,  she  was  married  to  her 
nearest  marriageable  relative,  as  some  of  you 
know  is  the  custom  over  there.  Think  of  little 
Helen  or  Nora  here  being  married  to  some  big 
man  she  never  saw!" 

This  remark  caused  a  little  ripple  of  laughter, 
and  Nannette  went  on: 

"Well,  her  father  died  just  before  her  mar 
riage,  and  left  her  a  large  fortune.  They  had  a 
grand  show  at  her  wedding.  Distinguished 


124      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

people  were  present,  and  she  received  gifts  of 
jewels,  vessels,  and  clothes,  worth  a  fortune. 

"She  was  very  happy  as  a  child — the  pet  of  the 
entire  household.  She  was  religious,  too,  in  her 
way,  and  besides  the  idols  in  her  house,  she  had 
in  her  room  twenty-five  pictures  of  idols  and 
twelve  images,  large  and  small,  of  the  very  best 
kind.  These  she  would  decorate  with  flowers, 
and  prepare  for  worship.  Many  times  she  would 
fast  for  days  to  please  her  gods,  and  count  over 
one  thousand  beads,  attaching  a  prayer  to  each 
one.  She  even  had  a  beautiful  temple  built  for 
their  gods,  and  adorned  it  with  the  most  costly 
jewels.  You  see,  she  was  firmly  fixed  in  her 
heathenish  practices. 

"Well,  one  day  she  saw  one  of  the  faithful 
Bible-women  of  our  mission  school,  and,  after 
asking  some  questions,  she  said  she  would  like 
to  study  the  English  language.  She  was  very 
bright,  having  a  mind  similar  to  her  father's. 
Our  missionaries  agreed  to  go  to  her  and  teach 
her  Scripture-lessons  from  the  Bible.  Her 
people  did  not  like  that;  but  she  told  them  she 
simply  wanted  to  learn  English,  and,  as  far  as 


Nannette  in  the  Home  125 

the  Scripture-lessons  from  the  Bible  were  con 
cerned,  they  would  go  in  one  ear  and  out  the 
other. 

"For  a  year  and  a  half  they  went  there  and 
taught  her;  and  she  cared  nothing  for  the  Bible ; 
but  by  and  by  she  began  to  read  it  herself,  and 
understand  it,  and  O,  what  a  change  came 
then ! 

"Quietly  but  steadily  she  grew  more  inter 
ested,  and  her  earnestness  for  idol-worship  began 
to  die  down.  Her  people  noticed  she  did  not 
go  as  often  to  her  temple,  and  when  they  urged 
her  to  go  to  the  temple  to  have  a  golden  image 
of  herself  made  there,  in  prostration  before  an 
idol,  she  put  them  off,  and  said,  'You  will  have 
to  wait  about  that.'  For  the  sake  of  appearances 
she  went  on  saying  her  prayers  to  her  gods,  but 
her  heart  was  no  longer  in  them.  As  suspicion 
grew  in  her  mother's  heart,  she  ordered  the  mis 
sionaries  not  to  come  to  their  home  again. 

"They  did  not  go  again,  but  the  girl  kept  her 
Bible  and  read  it  in  secret,  and  after  some  months 
of  struggle  she  wrote  a  letter  to  one  of  the  mis 
sionaries,  telling  how  very  unhappy  she  was — 


Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

that  although  she  was  obliged  to  go  on  with  the 
outer  forms  of  idolatry,  she  had  given  it  all  up 
in  her  heart,  and  was  looking  to  Jesus  to  save 
her. 

"The  missionaries  could  only  pray  for  her  at 
a  distance;  but  she,  becoming  strong  in  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord,  began  to  refuse  idol-worship. 
Then  her  friends  tried  to  send  her  to  a  distant 
city.  She  refused  to  go,  and  as  they  urged  her 
more  and  more  she  made  up  her  mind  to  run 
away,  and  leave  forever  all  she  had  ever  known 
for  the  sake  of  Jesus.  So  one  day  she  made  all 
her  preparations.  She  put  in  boxes  her  silk 
clothes  and  her  jewels,  her  eating  and  drinking 
vessels,  and  all  her  many  treasures. 

"She  wept  sadly  as  she  sealed  up  her  most 
beautiful  things,  and  then  went  and  told  her 
mother  where  she  could  find  them.  Her  mother, 
being  surprised,  asked  her  very  lovingly  if  she 
thought  of  going  away  anywhere.  She  evaded 
the  question;  but  that  night  she  looked  at  all 
the  large  family  in  her  magnificent  home  for  the 
last  time.  Quietly,  when  the  stars  began  to 
shine,  she  opened  the  door,  and  slipped  out. 


Nannette  in  the  Home  127 

"Can  you  imagine  how  that  poor,  dear  girl 
felt?  She  told  the  missionary  teacher  after 
wards:  'I  went  out  into  the  darkness  with  only 
the  stars  above  me,  and  I  did  not  know  where 
nor  how  it  was  going  to  be.  But  a  voice  in  my 
heart  told  me  to  run,  and  I  ran.  At  your  gate 
here  I  stopped.  Then  and  there  I  offered  a 
prayer,  and  told  God  I  might  be  dragged  back 
on  the  streets,  and  I  might  have  to  endure  per 
secution,  trial,  and  hardship;  but  I  asked  him 
just  to  keep  me  faithful  to  himself,  and  I  would 
be  willing  to  bear  anything.'  Was  that  not  won 
derful,  dear  children?  Well,  that  truly  noble- 
hearted  girl  did  endure  severe  persecution. 
Some  of  the  authorities  of  the  Government  came 
after  her,  and  although  the  mission  teachers  were 
very  much  concerned,  both  for  their  own  and 
her  safety,  God  saved  them  from  all  evil. 

"The  greatest  trial  for  the  girl  was  when  her 
poor  mother  and  grandmother  and  husband 
came  beseeching  and  praying  her  to  return  to 
them;  but  she  steadily,  though  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  refused,  saying,  'I  will  choose  poverty  and 
Jesus  to  all  else  without  him.'  They  then  threat- 


128       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

ened  her,  and  with  awful  wailing  brought  down 
the  curses  of  their  gods  upon  her  if  she  did  not 
go  back  with  them;  but  like  a  rock  that  young 
girl  stood  firm  for  the  Lord  then  and  ever  since 
then,  and  although  poor  in  worldly  goods,  she 
is  rich  in  the  grace  of  the  Lord,  and  is  doing  a 
wonderful  work  for  him  in  India  to-day.  The 
once  proud,  petted,  wealthy  Brahman  became  a 
poor,  friendless,  homeless  girl  for  the  sake  of 
Jesus.  What  do  you  think  of  this  heathen  girl, 
children,  for  a  real  heroine?" 

"O,  she  was  great!"  cried  several. 

"I  'm  going  to  be  a  missionary,"  said  one 
little  fellow;  and  others  said  they  wished  all  of 
them  could  be  missionaries,  every  one. 

But  the  band-wagon,  just  then  approaching, 
turned  their  attention  in  another  direction.  I 
hurried  in  the  house  to  get  ready  some  fruits 
and  cuts  of  cake  to  send  to  little  friends  who 
could  not  come.  I  glanced  at  the  group  a  mo 
ment  as  I  stood  on  the  veranda,  before  breaking 
up  the  party.  The  picture  fastened  itself  on  my 
mind.  Nannette's  chair  was  surrounded  by  chil- 


Nannette  in  the  Home  129 

dren.  She  looked  radiant  as  she  sat  there, 
with  the  leaves  waving  over  her  head,  letting 
in  stray  gleams  of  sunshine  that  ornamented 
her  as  with  lines  of  jewels  here  and  there.  The 
green  lawn  was  dotted  with  the  upspringing  life 
of  flowers,  and  in  the  distance  could  be  heard  the 
sea,  plashing  around  the  rocks  with  the  soft 
murmuring  noise  of  a  July  calm.  When  the  chil 
dren  had  said  their  "good-byes"  and  gone,  Nan 
nette  was  rolled  into  the  house,  and  I  insisted 
on  her  lying  down. 

"Why  do  you  want  me  to  lie  down?"  she  pro 
tested,  as  she  smilingly  obeyed.  "If  I  ever  do 
die,  it  will  certainly  be  of  blessings ;  for  the  good 
Lord  just  showers  me  with  them  until  I  hardly 
have  room  enough  under -them  to  look  up  and 
say,  'Thank  you.'  " 

I  gave  her  a  hurried  kiss  and  went  out,  leav 
ing  her  alone. 

In  the  weeks  that  followed,  I  thought  I  could 
see  her  growing  weaker.  Sometimes  in  the 
midst  of  talking  she  would  stop  suddenly  as  if 
her  heart  had  ceased  to  beat.  But  she  only 

9 


130      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

smiled  if  we  made  any  reference  to  it,  as  she 
went  through  the  days  with  her 

"  Eyes  upturned 
As  if  life  were  one  long  and  sweet  surprise." 

One  day  as  we  were  sitting  alone  together, 
she  said  suddenly: 

"I  want  to  make  my  will  while  I  think  of  it, 
right  here  and  now,  Jeanie.  Will  you  please  go 
to  my  desk  and  write  for  me  as  I  dictate?" 

Then  followed  a  long  list  of  names,  not  only 
of  relatives  and  friends,  but  of  many  needy  per 
sons,  and  persons  whom  she  had  been  the  means 
of  saving.  To  each  of  these  she  gave  something 
in  the  way  of  money  or  books,  or  some  personal 
keepsake.  It  was  just  like  her,  I  thought,  to  re 
member  each  one  with  his  and  her  individual 
needs. 

"The  greatest  pleasure,  really,  in  having 
things,"  she  said,  as  she  looked  over  the  paper, 
"is  to  be  able  to  give  them  away." 

Her  father  staid  at  home  most  of  the  time  that 
summer  and  fall.  He  seemed  never  to  want  to 
be  away  from  her  side.  My  heart  ached  for  him; 
for  I  knew  she  was  dearer  to  him  than  any  one 


Nannette  in  the  Home  131 

else  in  the  world,  and  I  knew  she  could  not  re 
main  with  us  long. 

One  evening-,  Nannette  and  I  were  sitting  in 
the  study  after  a  very  busy  day.  I  had  been  at 
the  mission  that  morning,  and  the  mail  had  been 
large,  so  we  were  the  entire  afternoon  reading 
letters,  and  answering  the  most  important  ones. 
I  could  see  she  was  weary,  and  asked  her  if  she 
had  not  better  lie  down. 

"No,"  she  said,  "I  feel  so  much  better  sit 
ting  up." 

"You  look  weary,"  I  remarked. 

"O,  my  body  always  feels  weary  if  I  stop  to 
think  about  it;  but,"  she  added,  smiling,  "I 
won't  stop." 

What  a  contrast,  I  thought,  is  this  perennial 
cheerfulness  to  the  gloom  of  former  years !  Dur 
ing  the  five  years  of  Nannette' s  girlhood,  when 
she  was  confined  to  her  bed  of  suffering,  every 
day  was  darkened  with  complaint  and  rebellion ; 
but  since  that  time,  in  all  the  perplexities  and 
trials  of  a  very  busy  life,  and  one  that  held  many 
disappointments,  no  word  of  complaint  ever  es 
caped  her  lips.  She  was  uniformly  cheerful  and 


132       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

brave.  I  never  knew  one  whose  sympathies 
were  keener  for  the  sorrows  of  humanity  than 
were  hers,  and  yet  nothing  sweeter  and  more 
angelic  than  her  Christian  faith  and  devotion 
could  have  been  in  human  being. 

She  was  saying  to  me  one  evening  in  the 
library : 

"Jean,  did  you  ever  think  how  full  of  serene 
leisure  our  Lord's  life  was?  He  served  so  long 
an  apprenticeship  of  patience  before  his  ministry 
began,  and  through  all  the  crowded  days  of  heal 
ing  and  controversy  he  never  became  hurried  or 
excited.  Just  think  of  it — too  high,  too  strong, 
too  set  apart  to  lose  one's  balance,  no  matter 
what  comes.  How  the  poor  turbulent  world 
needs  him!" 

Her  father  came  in,  and  sitting  down  near 
her  said  he  wanted  to  ask  her  a  question,  and 
added : 

"I  do  n't  know  what  I  should  do  if  I  did  not 
have  you  to  ask  about  things." 

"Well,  father  dear,"  she  replied,  "I  frequently 
have  to  ask  Another  before  I  can  answer  you, 
and  when  you  no  longer  have  me  to  bring  per- 


Nannette  in  the  Home  133 

plexing  questions  to,  you  can  go  direct  to  Head 
quarters.  Is  n't  it  wonderful  that  we  can  all  do 
so,  and  the  most  wonderful  part  of  it  is  that  it  is 
worth  while?" 

Her  father  made  no  response,  and  presently 
she  asked  him  to  turn  on  the  gas,  and  she  said : 

"I  read  such  a  beautiful  sermon  this  morn 
ing.  Won't  you  let  me  give  you  a  little  extract 
from  it?  I  thought  it  well  worth  copying." 

"Let 's  hear  it,"  he  said. 

She  took  a  sheet  of  paper  out  of  her  Bible 
that  was  lying  on  the  table,  and  read  from  it: 

"Christ  was  first  to  urge  the  race  onward 
toward  happiness.  Other  teachers  had  come 
and  had  said,  'Be  learned,'  'Be  stoical,'  'Be  am 
bitious  ;'  but  it  was  reserved  for  the  Son  of  man 
to  say,  'Be  happy.'  His  was  the  first  system  that 
began  and  ended  with  a  benediction.  It  is  one 
of  the  wonders  of  history  that  in  an  atmosphere 
which  had  been  kept  full  of  the  dust  of  battle 
fields  and  the  noise  of  falling  cities,  an  air  which 
had  echoed  to  the  creed  of  Draco  and  Lycurgus, 
had  vibrated  with  the  curses  of  master  and 
groans  of  slaves;  that  down  through  this  same 


134      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

air  should  have  come  words  so  undreamed  of 
and  so  sweet.  The  song  of  'Peace  on  earth'  was 
not  the  result  of  battle-fields  of  Greek,  Roman, 
or  Hebrew;  it  was  not  proclaimed  by  kings 
whose  feet  had  been  on  the  necks  of  mankind; 
but  down  from  upper  realms  it  came — from  that 
happy  country  of  God,  in  whose  atmosphere 
there  is  no  dust  of  battle-fields,  and  on  whose 
ground  there  falls  no  tear." 

"The  whole  sermon,"  she  added,  as  she  placed 
the  paper  back  in  her  Bible,  "was  beautiful ;  but 
I  just  copied  this  paragraph  because  it  struck 
me  as  so  forceful  that  the  Lord  wants  us  to  be 
happy."  She  rolled  her  chair  up  close  by  her 
father,  and  continued :  "Do  n't  think  I  am  always 
preaching,  father  dear,  because  I  'm  not ;  but  of 
late  I  have  known,  as  well  as  you  have,  that  I 
must  soon — turn  the  curve.  I  have  waited 
longer  now  than  our  physician  said  I  could,  and 
I  am  glad  to  wait ;  but  you  see,  father,  I  can  not 
lose  an  opportunity  when  I  am  with  you  to  try 
to  show  you  how  real  these  things  are." 

"It 's  all  right,  my  child,"  he  said,  "and  I  do 
get  some  comfort  in  the  thought  of  them." 


Nannette  in  the  Home  135 

Nannette  leaned  her  head  lovingly  against 
his  shoulder,  and  we  sat  silently  listening  to  the 
hum  of  insect  life  through  the  open  window  and 
the  never-ceasing  murmur  of  the  sea. 

As  the  shadows  deepened,  and  she  read,  as 
was  her  custom,  a  few  verses  from  the  Bible, 
and  we  knelt  for  evening  worship,  we  three 
seemed  to  be  lifted  into  a  higher  atmosphere, 
and  her  prayer  for  the  time  to  be  verified,  "Let 
the  beauty  of  the  Lord  our  God  be  upon  us." 


vi 

PERFECT  THROUGH  SUFFERING 

"The  way  is  dark,  my  Father.     Cloud  on  cloud 
Is  gathering  thickly  o'er  my  head,  and  loud 
The  thunders  roar  above  me.     See,  I  stand 
Like  one  bewildered.     Father,  take  my  hand, 
And  through  the  gloom, 
Lead  safely  home 

Thy  child. 

The  cross  is  heavy,  Father.     I  have  borne 
It  long,  and  still  do  bear  it.     Let  my  worn 
And  fainting  spirit  rise  to  that  blest  land 
Where  crowns  are  given.     Father,  take  my  hand, 
And  reaching  down, 
Lead  to  the  crown 

Thy  child." 

— HENRY  U.  COBB. 

As  THE  fall  months  drew  nigh  that  year,  Nan- 
nette  grew  weaker,  and  her  physician  and  friends 
urged  her  to  discontinue  even  her  Bible-readings. 
The  last  one  she  ever  gave  was  especially  for 
invalids,  who  could  know  of  no  great  deeds  they 
had  done,  no  great  work  accomplished.  She  re 
quested  her  invalid  friends,  as  far  as  possible,  to 
136 


Perfect  Through  Suffering  137 

be  present  that  day.  Her  heart  went  out  with 
much  warmth  of  feeling  to  those  who  see  life  as 
"through  a  glass  darkly,"  and  she  wanted  her  last 
general  talk  to  be  a  word  of  comfort  to  them. 

She  was  sitting  that  afternoon,  propped  up 
with  pillows,  on  the  couch  in  the  library,  and  a 
number  of  friends  were  gathered  in  the  room 
and  hall  adjoining.  They  all  knew  her  and  loved 
her,  and  it  was  a  little  home  talk  that  God  used 
in  the  blessing  of  many  hearts  that  day. 

Before  opening  her  Bible  she  said  she  wanted 
to  say  some  things  that  had  been  in  her  heart  to 
say  a  long  while.  "It  is  very  wonderful  and  in 
spiring,"  she  began,  "to  read  of  and  to  know 
invalids  who  have  done  a  large  work  in  the 
world.  We  read  with  gratitude  of  the  work 
done  by  Bella  Cooke,  of  New  York  City.  Most 
of  you  are  familiar  with  her  life-story,  and  know 
that  although  she  has  been  bedridden  for  more 
than  thirty-five  years,  she  has  done  a  great  char 
itable  work.  Many  people  of  wealth  are  attracted 
toward  her  by  her  beautiful  Christian  fortitude, 
and,  largely  through  means  given  her  by  them, 
she  has,  by  self-appointed  committees  and  man- 


138       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

agers,  fed  and  clothed  many  hundreds  of  poor 
and  needy,  and  been  the  means  of  bringing  large 
numbers  to  Christ  every  year.  No  less  beauti 
ful  was  the  work  of  dear  Jennie  Casseday,  of 
Louisville,  Ky.  I  have  spoken  to  some  of  you 
about  her  noble  work  of  starting  the  Flower 
Mission,  and  of  how  it  was  taken  up  by  the  Wo 
man's  Christian  Temperance  Union,  and  became 
a  national  department  of  that  work,  with  Miss 
Casseday  as  superintendent.  We  have  also 
spoken  of  her  work  at  Rest  Cottage  near  Louis 
ville.  In  a  letter  received  recently  from  Miss 
Frances  Willard,  she  speaks  of  Miss  Casseday's 
work  as  one  of  the  most  beautiful  she  has  ever 
known. 

"There  are  many  other  invalids  that  might  be 
mentioned,  whose  lives  have  been  prominent  in 
good  works;  but,  while  we  should  not  forget 
these,  we  must  remember  there  has  been  a  serv 
ice  rendered  to  the  world  by  hidden  and  un 
known  ones  also,  God's  nameless  heroes  who 
have  become  perfect  through  suffering.  No  one 
who  has  not  experienced  it,  as  some  of  you  have, 
can  realize  the  desolation  of  those  who  can  make 


Perfect  Through  Suffering  139 

no  plans  for  the  future,  who  can  dream  of  no 
sweetness  in  the  past,  but  whose  entire  thought 
is  absorbed  in  immediate  struggle  with  the  pres 
ent.  More  than  one  invalid  friend  has  said  to 
me,  when  I  have  sat  near  her  bedside  or  invalid 
chair,  that  the  greatest  grief  of  all  was  the  con 
sciousness  that  she  was  only  a  burden  to  her 
friends,  and  no  help  to  any  one.  How  my  heart 
aches  for  all  these  dear  ones!  We  frequently 
hear  it  said  that  great  mental  struggle  is  more 
severe  than  any  physical  pain ;  but  that  statement 
could  not  be  made  by  any  one  who  has  had  ex 
perience.  Some  of  us  know  how  hard  it  is  for 
the  mind  to  have  freedom,  when  the  body  is 
racked  with  pain.  The  most  we  can  do,  is  to 
demand  of  ourselves  to  endure. 

"There  are  seasons  when  to  be  still  demands 
greater  strength  than  to  act,  and  is  the  greatest 
proof  of  our  trust  in  God.  It  was  the  obedience 
of  Abraham  that  immortalized  him,  and  not  any 
philanthropic  or  benevolent  work  he  did,  in  his 
land  or  among  his  people,  no  matter  how  sweet 
or  acceptable  a  privilege  that  sort  of  service  is. 
It  was  the  prayer  of  wrestling  Jacob,  and  the  re- 


140      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

suits  of  that  prayer  in  his  own  soul,  that  have 
come  down  to  us  through  the  centuries. 

"So  let  us  not  feel  that  God's  work  is  done 
altogether  by  those  who  are  known  as  Christian 
philanthropists.  There  is  a  service  of  patient 
submission  and  uncomplaining  lips  to  render 
him,  and  he  himself  will  give  the  reward;  for 
earth's  measurements  are  too  meager  for  such 
service. 

"One  dear  invalid  mother  I  knew,  a  Meth 
odist  minister's  wife,  felt  when  her  affliction  came 
that  she  must  have  health.  The  family  was  poor. 
Her  husband's  salary  hardly  provided  them  with 
the  necessities  of  life,  and  they  had  three  little 
children.  Those  children  would  come  to  her  and 
beg  her  to  get  out  of  bed  and  do  for  them,  and 
when  they  were  forbidden  that  by  their  father, 
their  little  pinched,  mute  faces  spoke  louder  than 
any  words  could  to  that  loving  mother's  heart, 
and  she  clenched  her  hands  hidden  under  the 
covers,  and  turned  her  face  away  in  an  agony 
of  prayer  to  God  for  help  and  for  restoration  to 
health,  if  it  could  be  his  will.  Yet  it  did  not  come. 

"She  saw  her  baby,  from  neglect  and  expos- 


Perfect  Through  Suffering  141 

ure,  get  sick,  and  as  he  lay  at  night  moaning 
with  fever,  and  she  could  not  even  raise  herself 
to  wait  upon  him,  her  anguish  of  soul  was  in 
tense.  And  yet  God  gave  her  the  grace  to  say : 
'My  Father,  thy  will  be  done.  Thou  knowest 
what  all  this  means  to  me.  No  human  being  can 
know.  Let  my  lips  only  glorify  Christ  through 
all  my  sufferings.'  She  has  been  in  bed  for  years 
now ;  but  God  has  still  preserved  all  her  children, 
and  she  has  been  able  to  teach  them  how  to  have 
the  care  of  themselves;  and  her  husband  re 
ceives  from  her,  as  he  goes  out  to  his  arduous 
labors,  a  smile  and  a  'God  bless  you.' 

"But  where  such  grace  is  not  abounding  in 
the  heart,  or,  when  one  suffers  alone  and  with 
out  the  consolations  of  love,  the  test  is  so  much 
the  more  severe — to  be  poor,  and  sick,  and  alone. 
How  one  longs  then  to  be  loved  and  sheltered — 
to  be  tenderly  cared  for  and  blessed !  But  often 
there  are  no  hands  lifted  in  love  to  soothe  the 
aching  brow,  and  no  arms  ready  to  enfold. 

"If  you  can  look  up  to  God  with  a  smile  of 
submission  when  your  life  is  stripped  of  all  earth 
holds  dear,  you  have  surely  reached  the  high- 


142       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

water  mark  of  Christian  experience.  He  does 
not  trust  everybody  with  a  great  sorrow,  but  oc 
casionally  he  finds  a  soul  that  can  suffer  the  loss 
of  all  earthly  possessions,  all  friends,  and  even 
health,  and  yet  with  a  triumphant  faith  look  up 
and  say,  'Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in 
him.'  It  was  thus  with  Job,  and  God  himself 
flashes  the  searchlight  of  the  ages  upon  him, 
and  he  stands  out  sublime. 

"I  want  to  read  you  a  few  extracts  from  the 
diary  of  a  heroine.  This  diary  was  found  in  an 
attic  chamber  of  a  poor  man's  house,  and  had 
belonged  to  a  sick  old  woman.  God's  standards 
of  exaltation  are  not  man's,  we  must  remember. 
She  was  a  semi-invalid,  and  her  home  was  with 
her  only  son  and  his  wife.  Both  the  son  and 
wife  were  Church  members,  and  nominally 
Christians.  Yet  her  life  was  one  of  distresses 
and  impositions  that  amounted  to  cruelty.  Al 
though  she  felt  the  infirmities  of  age,  she  was 
superior  in  mind  and  heart  to  any  with  whom 
she  came  in  contact  year  after  year. 

"No  one  ever  seemed  to  think  of  visiting  her, 
and  she  could  not  get  out  any  farther  than  in 


Perfect  Through  Suffering  143 

the  small  yard  surrounding  their  cottage.  When 
she  was  able  to  go  about  the  house  she  was 
given  the  drudgery  to  do,  even  the  ironing  and 
scrubbing.  When  it  was  apparent  she  was  too 
ill  for  that,  she  was  expected  to  mend  the  cloth 
ing  and  knit  the  hosiery.  But  even  this  hard 
labor  was  not  what  caused  the  sorrow  of  her 
heart  and  life.  It  was  the  fact  that  no  one  loved 
her — no  one  ever  gave  her  a  word  of  sympathy, 
even  when  she  was  prostrate  with  rheumatism 
for  weeks  at  a  time.  It  had  been  years  since  any 
one  had  given  her  a  kiss  or  a  word  of  tenderness, 
and  being  old  and  feeble  she  longed  for  these 
things  many  times. 

"She  was  fond  of  books,  and  had  always  cared 
for  the  best  things ;  but  if  she  had  been  the  most 
ignorant  slave,  less  attention  could  not  have  been 
paid  to  her  heart's  needs.  Yet  she  had  one  prize 
that  no  one  else  in  the  house  especially  valued — 
the  Bible.  Amid  all  her  losses  and  deprivations 
she  had  found  the  pearl  of  great  price,  and  it 
meant  more  to  her  than  all  else  besides.  As  she 
needed  some  expression  for  the  tide  of  feeling 
that  still  ran  high,  though  her  years  numbered 


144       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

threescore,  she  kept  a  diary  that  furnished  some 
outlet  for  her  aching  heart  and  gave  her  strength. 
This  diary  she  intended  to  destroy  before  her 
death;  but  some  how  or  other  it  did  not  get 
destroyed.  We  copied  from  it  a  few  extracts, 
and  I  will  read  them  to  you."  She  then  read 
from  a  few  sheets  of  paper  she  had  in  her  hand. 
"Nov.  loth. — I  am  so  tired  to-night,  Heav 
enly  Father;  but  I  've  come  to  my  dear  old  Book 
for  rest.  It  helps  me  so  to  speak  out,  if  it 's  only 
to  a  blank  book.  I  thought  this  morning  as  I 
sat  ironing  the  children's  clothes,  of  my  morning 
verse:  'They  that  wait  on  the  Lord  shall  renew 
their  strength.  They  shall  mount  up  with  wings 
as  eagles,  they  shall  run  and  not  be  weary,  they 
shall  walk  and  not  faint.'  So  I  am  waiting  on 
the  Lord — waiting,  waiting;  and  how  it  does 
help  me  to  forget  my  weariness  and  pain!  I 
thought  for  a  while  this  morning  that  my  back 
would  give  way  entirely,  and  then  when  Ann 
came  in  and  said,  as  she  saw  me  sitting  down: 
'Well,  granny,  you  do  take  things  easy.  Sittin' 
down  to  iron !  The  next  thing  I  s'pose  you  '11 
bring  the  old  bed  in  here  and  lie  down  at  it. 


Perfect  Through  Suffering  145 

Some  folks  haint  got  no  ambition,  no  ways.' 
It  just  made  my  back  hurt  worse ;  but  I  did  not 
say  anything,  and  I  must  not  think  anything 
now,  either.  No,  no,  I  '11  forgive  and  forget. 
Just  the  telling  it  out  helps  me  to  forgive  and 
forget.  Lord,  do  n't  let  me  be  annoyed  at  little 
things — they  're  all  little  things — there  's  only 
one  big  thing  in  my  life,  and  that  is  Thy  love  for 
me.  It 's  everything  to  me. 

"Dec.  24th. — How  well  I  remember  this  night 
twenty-five  years  ago!  It  was  a  sweet  little 
home  if  it  was  plain,  and  my  Henry  was  a  true 
husband.  We  had  our  ups  and  downs;  but 
neither  of  us  ever  talked  really  harsh  to  the  other. 
How  I  loved  you,  dear  Henry,  and  that  Christ 
mas  eve  of  long  ago,  after  we  had  fixed  the  can 
dies  and  nuts  in  the  children's  stockings,  and 
arranged  their  presents,  how  well  I  remember 
your  smile  and  kiss,  as  you  handed  me  the  me 
rino  dress-pattern,  and  said,  'I  want  to  see  how 
pretty  your  black  eyes  will  look  when  you  get 
this  on,  wifie !'  I  do  n't  know  what  makes  me 
think  of  these  foolish  things  so  long  ago,  so  long 
ago ;  but  somehow  I  love  to  think  of  them. 


10 


146      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

"How  sweet  John  did  look  in  his  little  new 
suit  that  Christmas !  Ah,  my  boy,  if  I  could  just 
carry  you  back  to  the  way  you  were  that  night. 
How  I  loved  you  and  watched  over  you  in  sick 
ness  for  days  and  nights,  and  how  I  tried  to  help 
you  in  all  your  troubles ;  and  yet  now,  John,  you 
and  Ann  never  think  of  your  old  mother.  But, 
never  mind,  you  only  forget,  my  boy — O  yes, 
you  only  forget.  That 's  all  everybody  does — 
they  only  forget.  Father,  bless  them  all,  forgive 
them  and  love  them  and  send  peace  to  their 
hearts — to  all  our  hearts.  How  very  tired  I  am ! 
How  I  wish  I  had  some  one  to  fix  my  bed ! 

"Jan.  4th. — How  precious  is  my  Bible  to 
me  to-day!  The  Holy  Spirit  just  seemed  to  il 
luminate  every  page  as  I  read.  Praise  His  name ! 
I  can  endure.  I  'm  sure  I  can.  I  even  sang  as 
I  did  up  the  kitchen  work  this  morning.  Give 
me  more  breath  to  sing,  O  Thou, 

•Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me ; 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee.' 

I  hope  I  '11  never  utter  a  word  of  complaint,  nor 
try  to  defend  myself  against  anybody  or  any 
thing,  ever.  Thou  art  my  all  in  all.  I  know  it 


Perfect  Through  Suffering  147 

won't  be  long  now.  I  seek  a  habitation — 'a 
house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens.' ' 

"Below  this  she  had  copied  these  verses: 

"  'The  cross  that  He  gave  may  be  heavy, 

But  it  ne'er  outweighs  His  grace; 
The  storm  that  I  feared  may  surround  me, 
But  it  ne'er  excludes  His  face. 

The  thorns  in  my  path  are  not  sharper 
Than  composed  His  crown  for  me ; 

The  cup  that  I  drink,  not  more  bitter 
Than  He  drank  in  Gethsemane. 

His  will  I  have  joy  in  fulfilling 

As  I'm  walking  in  His  sight; 
My  all  to  His  cross  I  am  bringing— 

It  alone  can  keep  me  right' 

And  thus  this  dear  Christian  soul  went  on  to 
the  end,  bearing  her  cross  with  uncomplaining 
lips. 

"We  know  there  are  many  heroes  walking  a 
similar  path,  and  let  those  who  neglect  them, 
especially  where  they  are  of  the  household  of 
faith,  remember  that  Christ  said :  'Woe  unto  him 
by  whom  these  offenses  come.  It  were  better 
for  him  that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his 
neck,  and  that  he  were  cast  into  the  sea.'  But 


148      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

unto  those  who  faithfully  care  for  his  needy 
ones,  he  says  again,  'Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done 
it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye  have  done 
it  unto  me.' ' 

She  paused  a  moment,  and  then  continued: 
"Dear  friends,  it  is  hard  for  me  to  give  up 
these  weekly  Bible-readings  and  talks  with  you. 
They  have  been  a  great  blessing  to  my  own 
heart  and  life,  as  I  have  held  them  here  for 
more  than  eight  years ;  but  it  is  thought  best  that 
I  should  discontinue  them  now,  and  whatever  is 
an  indication  of  Providence,  it  is  my  duty  and 
privilege  to  obey.  It  is  possible  I  may  not  see 
some  of  you  again,  and  I  feel  loath  to  leave  you. 
Sad  experiences  may  come  to  some  of  us  before 
the  'daybreak'  on  the  other  side ;  but  when  that 
time  is  come,  we  will  look  back  at  our  lives  here, 
and  I  am  sure  we  shall  not  regret  anything  we 
suffered  for  His  sake.  Does  it  seem  strange  to 
think  of  our  going  out  into  the  untried  regions? 
How  must  it  seem  to  the  eaglet  when  he  leaves 
his  nest?  But  with  the  leaving  he  finds  his  wings 
are  sufficient,  though  he  had  not  tried  them  be 
fore.  Do  you  suppose  after  he  tastes  the  free- 


Perfect  Through  Suffering  149 

dom  of  God's  high  air,  and  has  had  the  lofty 
range  of  vision,  he  could  be  persuaded  to  return 
to  his  nest  in  the  rocky  clefts — his  nest  of  sticks 
and  straw?  No  more  could  we,  dear  heart." 

She  paused  again,  and  then  opened  her  Bible, 
and  spreading  out  upon  it  several  sheets  of  paper 
upon  which  she  had  closely  written,  said :  "I  want 
to  leave  with  you,  as  our  last  Bible-reading  to 
gether,  the  words  of  God  to  his  children,  with 
out  any  human  comment.  These  passages  I 
have  selected  are,  as  you  will  see,  from  different 
parts  of  the  Bible;  but  I  think  it  is  perfectly 
legitimate  to  arrange  them  in  this  order,  as  they 
express  only  the  cry  of  the  human  heart,  and  the 
answer  in  God's  own  Word.  Some  one  has  said, 
'Affliction  is  like  the  wind,  that  blows  one  vessel 
to  destruction,  and  another  into  port.'  It  de 
pends  upon  the  rejection  or  acceptance  of  the 
Word. 

"  "Thus  saith  the  Lord :  Hearken  unto  me. 
Ye  have  seen  how  I  bare  you  on  eagle's  wings 
and  brought  you  to  myself.  Now  if  ye  will  obey 
my  voice  and  hearken  unto  my  commandments, 
and  love  the  Lord  your  God  with  all  your  heart 


I5°      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

and  with  all  your  soul  and  with  all  your  mind 
and  with  all  your  strength,  then  shall  ye  be  a 
peculiar  treasure  unto  me,  and  I  will  be  your 
God  and  ye  shall  be  my  sons  and  daughters, 
saith  the  Lord  Almighty.' 

"  'But  O,  my  God,  how  great  is  thy  afflic 
tion  !  Terrors  are  turned  upon  me,  they  pursue 
my  soul  as  the  wind,  and  my  welfare  passeth 
away  as  a  cloud.  My  bones  are  pierced  in  me 
in  the  night  season,  and  my  sinews  take  no  rest.' 

"  'Yet  hear  my  voice — when  thou  passest 
through  the  waters  I  will  be  with  thee,  and 
through  the  rivers  they  shall  not  overflow  thee; 
when  thou  walkest  through  the  fire  thou  shalt 
not  be  burned,  for  I  am  the  Lord,  thy  God,  the 
Holy  One  of  Israel,  thy  Savior.' 

'  'When  shall  I  know  of  thy  salvation,  O  my 
God?  My  days  are  like  a  shadow  that  declineth, 
and  I  am  withered  like  grass.  When  I  lie  down 
I  say,  When  shall  I  arise  and  the  night  be  gone? 
and  I  am  full  of  tossings  to  and  fro  until  the 
dawning  of  the  day.  Hear  my  cry,  for  I  am 
brought  very  low;  bring  my  soul  out  of  prison 
and  attend  unto  the  voice  of  my  supplications. 


Perfect  Through  Suffering  151 

Be  not  silent  unto  me,  lest  I  be  like  those  that  go 
down  into  the  pit.' 

"  'Fear  not,  for  I,  even  I,  am  He  that  com- 
forteth  thee :  I  will  heal  thee,  I  will  lead  thee,  and 
restore  comforts  unto  thee.' 

"  'But  lo,  false  witnesses  have  arisen  up 
against  me,  O  Lord!  They  have  laid  to  my 
charge  things  that  I  knew  not:  they  rewarded 
me  evil  for  good  to  the  spoiling  of  my  soul. 
Yea,  mine  own  familiar  friend  in  whom  I  trusted, 
which  did  eat  of  my  bread,  hath  lifted  up  his 
heel  against  me.  I  am  bowed  with  sorrow.  My 
soul  has  long  dwelt  with  him  that  hateth  peace, 
and  my  heart  is  smitten.  I  am  as  a  sparrow  alone 
upon  the  housetop.  My  harp  also  is  turned  to 
mourning  and  my  organ  into  the  voice  of  them 
that  weep.' 

"  'Who  art  thou  that  thou  shouldst  be  afraid 
of  a  man  that  shall  die,  and  of  the  son  of  man 
that  shall  be  made  as  grass,  and  forgettest  the 
Lord  that  hath  stretched  forth  the  heavens  and 
laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth?  Lift  up  your 
eyes  to  the  heavens,  and  look  upon  the  earth 
beneath ;  for  the  heaven  shall  vanish  away  like 


152      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

smoke,  and  the  earth  shall  wax  old  like  a  gar 
ment,  and  they  that  dwell  therein  shall  die  in 
like  manner;  but  my  salvation  shall  be  forever 
and  my  righteousness  shall  not  be  abolished.' 
"  'Yea,  O  Lord,  righteous  art  thou,  yet  let  me 
talk  with  thee  of  thy  judgments.  My  spirit  is 
overwhelmed  within  me.  I  remember  the  days 
of  old.  Thou  didst  make  me  to  hope.  I  rejoiced 
as  a  bridegroom  coming  out  of  his  chamber, 
and  as  a  strong  man  to  run  a  race.  My  years 
have  passed.  I  was  young,  and  now  am  old.  My 
purposes  are  broken  off,  even  the  thoughts  of 
my  heart.  I  make  my  bed  in  darkness,  and 
where  is  now  my  hope?  Wherefore  doth  the 
way  of  the  wicked  prosper?  Wherefore,  Lord, 
are  they  happy  that  deal  treacherously?  While 
my  days  are  consumed  as  grass,  I  am  poured 
out  like  water,  and  all  my  bones  are  out  of  joint. 
I  may  tell  all  my  bones,  they  look  and  stare  upon 
me.  Judge  me,  for  I  have  walked  in  integrity. 
I  have  hated  the  congregation  of  evil  doers ;  yet 
they  flourish  like  a  green  bay-tree,  and  my  grief 
hath  no  end.  How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long? 
O  that  one  might  plead  with  God  as  a  man 


Perfect  Through  Suffering  153 

pleadeth  with  his  neighbor!  O  that  I  knew 
where  I  might  find  him,  that  I  might  come  even 
to  his  seat !  I  would  order  my  cause  before  him, 
and  fill  my  mouth  with  arguments.' 

"  'Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God.  Shall 
he  that  contendeth  with  the  Almighty  instruct 
him?  Canst  thou  by  searching  find  out  God? 
Canst  thou  find  out  the  Almighty  to  perfection? 
Behold  I  show  you  a  great  mystery.  It  be 
hooved  Him  in  bringing  many  sons  to  glory  to 
make  the  Captain  of  their  salvation  perfect 
through  suffering.  The  servant  is  not  greater 
than  his  Lord;  who,  being  in  the  form  of  God, 
thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with  God; 
but  made  himself  of  no  reputation,  and  took 
upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  being  found 
in  fashion  as  a  man  he  humbled  himself  and  be 
came  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the 
cross.  He  was  despised  and  rejected  of  men — a 
Man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief.  He 
was  oppressed.  He  was  afflicted.  He  was 
clothed  with  a  vesture  dipped  in  blood.  Think 
it  not  strange  concerning  the  fiery  trial  which 
is  to  try  you,  as  though  some  strange  thing  hap- 


154      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

pened  unto  you,  but  rejoice  inasmuch  as  ye  are 
partakers  of  Christ's  sufferings,  that  when  his 
glory  shall  be  revealed  ye  may  be  glad  also  with 
exceeding  joy.' 

"  'What  shall  I  answer  Thee,  O  most  High? 
I  will  lay  my  hand  upon  my  mouth.  Mine  afflic 
tion  hath  caused  me  sorrow,  and  in  my  sorrow 
have  I  sinned.  What  shall  I  do  unto  Thee,  O 
Thou  Preserver  of  men.' 

"  'Gird  up  thy  loins  like  a  man.  Remember 
not  the  former  things,  neither  consider  the  things 
of  old.  Behold,  I  will  do  a  new  thing:  now  it 
shall  spring  forth.  I  will  make  a  way  in  the 
wilderness,  and  rivers  in  the  desert.  And  sorrow 
and  sighing  shall  flee  away.  Be  sober,  and  hope 
to  the  end.  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake 
thee.  I  have  called  thee  by  thy  name.  Thou  art 
mine.' 

"  'O  Lord,  thou  art  very  merciful !  Thy  grace 
is  abundant.  Thy  love  putteth  strength  in  my 
heart,  as  one  whom  his  mother  comforteth.' 

'  'Behold,  I  have  refined  thee,  but  not  with 
silver ;  I  have  chosen  thee  in  the  furnace  of  afflic 
tion.  I  have  graven  thee  upon  the  palms  of  my 


Perfect  Through  Suffering  155 

hands.  Fear  not,  for  I  have  redeemed  thee.  I 
am  the  Lord,  thy  Holy  One,  the  Creator  of 
Israel,  thy  King.  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  In  the 
world  ye  shall  have  tribulation;  but  be  of  good 
cheer,  I  have  overcome  the  world.  Not  as  the 
world  giveth,  give  I  unto  you.  Let  not  your 
heart  be  troubled,  neither  let  it  be  afraid.  He 
that  overcometh  shall  inherit  all  things,  and  I 
will  be  his  God  and  he  shall  be  my  son.  I  go 
to  prepare  a  place  for  you;  and  if  I  go  I  will 
come  again  and  receive  you  unto  myself,  that 
where  I  am,  there  ye  may  be  also.  And  there 
shall  be  no  night  there,  and  God  shall  wipe  away 
all  tears,  and  there  shall  be  no  more  death, 
neither  sorrow  nor  crying,  neither  shall  there 
be  any  more  pain,  for  the  former  things  are 
passed  away.' 

"  'O,  praise  the  Lord !  Let  everything  that 
hath  breath  praise  the  Lord.  How  unsearchable 
are  his  riches,  and  his  ways  past  finding  out! 
Though  the  sorrows  of  death  compassed  me  and 
the  pains  of  hell  gat  hold  upon  me,  yet  the  Lord 
hath  delivered  me.  I  shall  not  fear.  I  took  upon 
myself  to  speak  to  the  Almighty,  which  am  but 


156       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

dust  and  ashes,  and  he  hath  heard  my  cry  and 
brought  me  out,  and  set  my  feet  upon  a  rock 
and  put  a  new  song  into  my  mouth.  I  will  re 
member  my  affliction  no  more.  I  know  now  on 
whom  I  have  believed.  I  run  not  as  uncer 
tainly  ;  so  fight  I  not  as  one  that  beateth  the  air, 
for  the  Lord  is  my  light  and  my  salvation.  He 
is  the  strength  of  my  life.  Who  is  God  save 
the  Lord?  And  who  is  a  Rock  save  our  God? 
Most  gladly  will  I  suffer  that  the  power  of 
Christ  may  be  made  manifest  in  -me.  I  am  ready 
not  to  be  bound  only,  but  also  to  die  for  the 
name  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  Who  shall  separate  us 
from  the  love  of  Christ?  Shall  tribulation,  or 
distress,  or  persecution,  or  famine,  or  nakedness, 
or  peril,  or  sword?  Nay,  in  all  these  things  we 
are  more  than  conquerors  through  Him  that 
loved  us.  For  I  am  persuaded  that  neither 
death,  nor  life,  nor  principalities,  nor  powers, 
nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor 
height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall 
be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God  which 
is  in  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.'  " 


Chapter  vn 

TURNING  THE  CURVE 

"  Hush,  I  pray  you  ! 
What  if  this  friend  happen  to  be  God?" 

— BROWNING. 

IT  was  full  autumn,  and  one  of  those  perfect 
seasons  that  seem  the  climax,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  conclusion,  of  the  perfect  year.  The 
days  came  and  went  without  the  threatening  of 
a  cloud,  without  a  breath  of  unfriendly  air. 
Auburn  Place  never  looked  more  like  a  delight 
ful  home.  Potted  palms  and  hardy  plants 
adorned  the  front  lawn  and  verandas,  and  the 
ivy,  with  its  pretty  leaves  all  silvered  with  dew, 
covered  the  low  stone  wall.  The  very  noises  all 
around  the  place  had  a  heart  of  peace  within 
them. 

From  the  south  and  west  windows  in  Nan- 
nette's  room  we  could  see  the  softly-undulating 
hills  in  the  distance,  and  the  heavy  foliage  of  the 
maples  and  oaks,  made  rich  with  fall  tints  stand- 
is? 


158      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

ing  out  against  the  blue  background  of  the  sky ; 
from  the  opposite  window  we  could  watch  the 
sea — the  untiring,  ceaseless  motion  of  the  sea. 
Each  cloudless  October  day  it  lay  shining  and 
dimpled  in  the  afternoon  light,  and  we  would 
frequently  sit  and  watch  the  white  gulls  slowly 
waving  their  wings  through  the  clear  air,  and 
the  soft  moving  sails  of  the  ships  coming  and 
going.  We  saw  the  beauty  of  nature  mostly 
from  within  doors ;  but  even  there  we  saw  it,  and 
felt  it,  and  rejoiced  in  it. 

Nannette  had  not  left  her  room  for  more  than 
a  fortnight — and  much  of  that  time  was  spent 
on  her  bed,  yet  she  sang  in  little  low  song-mur 
murs  the  days  she  had  any  breath  to  sing,  and 
talked  of  the  ripening  world — not  the  fading 
world,  for  the  earth  does  not  fade  in  autumn. 
It  is  in  its  glory  of  maturity  then,  and  moves  at  a 
majestic  climax. 

"I  know,  Jeanie,"  she  said  one  day,  "that  I 
am  going  home  before  long,  and  I  am  glad  it  will 
be  in  the  fall  of  the  year.  I  love  the  fall.  I  want 
this  body  that  has  carried  me  about  for  so  many 
years  to  be  covered  with  its  crimson  and  gold." 


Turning  the  Curve  159 

"O  Nannette !"  I  replied,  trying  to  choke  back 
the  tears.  "It  will  turn  the  crimson  and  gold 
into  ashes  for  me." 

"No  indeed,  no  indeed;  I  never  want  you  to 
say  that.  You  '11  have  your  life  in  the  future, 
and  I  know  it  will  be  brave  and  true ;  and  as  for 
me,  Jeanie,  I  'm  tired,  and  I  want  to  go  home. 
Can't  you  be  glad  with  me?" 

"Dear  one,"  I  said,  and  laid  my  hand  on  hers, 
so  thin  and  white. 

Love  and  pain  had  so  sweetened  and  ripened 
her  character  that  she  seemed  to  me  as  perfect 
as  any  human  could  be.  She  had  had  sore  trials 
in  her  life  too ;  trials  that  I  have  not  introduced 
into  this  little  book,  partly  because  they  were 
kept  sacredly  close  by  her;  but  "every  heart 
knoweth  its  own  bitterness,"  and  there  were 
some  trials  that  came,  to  her,  severe  enough  to 
have  undermined  the  faith  of  a  weaker  Christian, 
yet  they  never  caused  her  to  murmur.  She  had 
once  and  forever  given  her  will  over  to  God, 
and  from  that  day  it  was  a  fixed  and  settled  mat 
ter  with  her  that  everything  touching  her  life 
was  allowed  by  Him,  and  therefore  accepted  by 


160      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

her.  If  she  could  not  rejoice  in  the  things  them 
selves,  she  rejoiced  in  the  Lord  who  let  them 
come  and  stood  still  until  they  were  passed  by. 

I  have  known  her  to  pray  for  her  youngest 
brother,  who  had  always  been  peculiarly  dear  to 
her,  until  her  spirit  wrestled  with  God  as  did  that 
of  Jacob,  and  yet  the  very  stones  could  not  have 
been  harder  or  colder  than  was  his  heart.  The 
sorrows  of  humanity  weighed  heavily  upon  her. 
I  have  seen  her  entreat,  and  reason  and  pray 
with  those  whose  spirits  were  blockaded  by  sin. 
She  felt  as  every  earnest  Christian  must  feel,  who 
comes  in  touch  with  the  heart  of  humanity,  the 
awful  tragedy  of  life  without  God.  Yet  amid  all 
her  heartaches  for  others,  and  amid  the  crowded 
days  of  work,  there  was  always  an  atmosphere 
of  peace  pervading  her  presence,  and  one  could 
not  be  with  her  without  feeling  it. 

She  knew  now  that  her  active  life  was  draw 
ing  to  a  close,  and  sometimes  her  eyes  would 
fill  with  tears  as  she  thought  of  some  poor,  needy 
one  she  could  no  longer  help. 

"If  I  could  only  see  poor  John  Drake,"  she 
would  say,  "and  know  that  he  is  faithful;"  or, 


Turning  the  Curve  161 

"How  I  wish  I  could  hear  from  Mary  Davis! 
She  is  one  of  God's  brave  poor." 

Almost  daily  she  would  ask  me  to  write  some 
message  of  love  or  cheer  to  the  children  at  the 
industrial  schools,  or  to  some  others  she  tenderly 
loved. 

"How  I  wish  the  world  had  Christ,"  she  said 
one  day,  "the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  high  and 
the  low !  They  wrestle  and  strive  and  struggle 
in  their  various  spheres  for  the  mere  privilege 
of  existence,  and  yet  they  make  no  effort  to  in 
sure  for  themselves  a  life  eternal.  How  sad  it  is ! 
Yet  the  day  will  come  when  the  Divine  One  shall 
see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul  and  be  satisfied.  I 
wish  I  could  live  over  my  girlhood  days  again 
with  what  I  have  learned  these  latter  years.  I 
would  give  them  all  to  Christ — everything  to 
him.  I  've  looked  in  at  every  door ;  but  surely 
when  the  whole  tale  is  told  there  is  nothing  like 
love  to  God  and  service  to  his  creatures." 

The  burden  of  souls  seemed  to  weigh  upon 
her  during  those  last  weeks  of  her  life.  She 
talked  of  scarcely  anything  else  except  how  this 
one  or  that  one  might  be  reached  by  the  gift  of 


1  6s       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

God's  Word,  or  by  personal  appeals,  or  other 
means.  I  remember  how  thankful  she  was  at 
this  time  to  receive  letters  of  sympathy  and  love 
from  Christian  workers,  assuring  her  that  the 
work  was  going  prosperously  on.  One  from 
Mr.  Snyder,  the  superintendent  of  the  mission, 
ran  thus: 


DEAR  Miss  HUNTINGTON,  —  1  hear  with 
much  sorrow  of  your  serious  illness.  I  know  it 
will  be  a  consolation  to  you  to  learn  that  the 
evening  services  now  being  held  at  East  Street 
Mission  are  largely  attended,  and  much  interest 
manifested.  Last  night  there  were  thirty-five 
people  in  the  inquiry-room  earnestly  seeking 
God.  One  man  said  he  had  not  been  in  a  re 
ligious  meeting  before  for  twenty  years,  but  he 
was  determined  now  to  take  a  start  in  the  right 
direction,  and  bring  his  family  with  him.  Surely 
God  is  with  us  in  this  mission  work  that  your 
honored  mother  so  nobly  started  here,  and  that 
you  have  worked  in  so  faithfully.  We  all  love 
you  and  miss  you  sadly  ;  but  our  earnest  prayers 
are  offered  daily  for  God's  choicest  blessings  to 
rest  upon  you  and  yours." 

When  I  had  finished  reading,  she  said,  as  the 
tears  filled  her  eyes: 

"How  wonderful  it  is,  Jean,  that  God  ever 


Turning  the  Curve  163 

allowed  me  to  engage  in  work  for  him !  I  often 
think  of  it.  There  was  absolutely  nothing  to 
recommend  me  to  his  favor,  and  yet  all  these 
years  past  he  has  been  revealing  to  me,  more 
and  more,  the  miracle  of  his  grace  in  the  re 
demption  of  a  human  soul,  giving  me  more  and 
more  light,  more  and  more  peace.  Sometimes 
in  my  intense  longing  for  the  salvation  of  those 
I  love,  especially  of  my  own  kindred,  I  say,  'Well, 
perhaps  this  heartache  is  just  a  taste  of  the  bitter 
cup  that  he  drank  for  humanity,  and  I  have  been 
permitted  to  have  fellowship  with  his  sufferings 
in  a  very  small  degree,  so  that  some  day,  some 
where,  I  may  be  partaker  of  his  glory.'  Is  n't 
it  wonderful,  Jeanie,  that  the  infinite  God  would 
be  our  Father  and  take  us  into  partnership  with 
himself  in  this  travail  for  souls?" 

"I  don't  believe,  Nannette,"  I  said,  "that 
most  Christians  are  yoked  together  with  Him  in 
sorrow  for  the  sins  of  the  world.  They  are 
Christians  who  will  be  saved,  I  suppose ;  but  they 
'sit  on  crimson  thrones,'  as  George  MacDonald 
says,  and  look  down  on  the  sufferings  of  their 
brothers  and  sisters  below  without  any  'inward 


164      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

pain.'  They  are  too  selfish  to  be  especially  con 
cerned  about  the  things  that  do  not  immediately 
touch  them. 

"Well,  it  is  their  loss;  for,  Jean,  either  the 
Christian  life  is  everything — a  philosophy,  a  sci 
ence,  an  art,  a  religion — entering  into  all  avenues 
of  thought  that  engage  the  human  mind — or  it 
is  nothing.  It  is  either  the  high  thing  of  com 
panionship  with  the  Son  of  God,  or  it  is  a  mere 
fanciful  delusion  that  forces  us  to  look  upon 
earth's  greatest  heroes  as  imbeciles,  and  earth's 
greatest  triumphs  as  failures.  I  never  could  un 
derstand  how  people  could  be  content  to  take  a 
few  steps,  as  it  were,  with  Christ,  and  forever 
after  stand  still,  or  move  about  in  a  narrow  little 
circle.  Their  eyes  will  be  opened  some  time  in 
the  eternities,  if  not  here,  and  they  will  realize 
their  irrevocable  loss." 

She  always  talked  on  this  high  plane,  and 
urged  all  who  named  the  name  of  Christ  to  look 
ahead  and  press  forward.  There  was  no  such 
thing  as  cant  in  her  speech.  She  was  very  plain 
and  practical  in  her  teachings;  but  her  lofty 
sentiments,  and  a  certain  perennial  freshness  that 


Turning  tlie  Curve  165 

frequently  belongs  to  poetic  souls,  made  her 
sometimes  appear  eloquent.  Yet  she  was  un 
conscious  of  any  such  thing,  and  as  simple  and 
unsophisticated  in  her  manner  as  a  little  child. 

Day  after  day  she  lay  on  her  bed  patient  and 
trustful,  thanking  us  for  every  little  service  as 
if  it  were  not  the  gladdest  joy  of  our  lives  to 
attend  upon  her  wishes.  One  morning  she  said 
to  her  father  as  she  laid  her  face  lovingly  against 
his  shoulder : 

"To  think  that  I  will  soon  be  with  dear 
mother  who  has  waited  so  long,  and  with  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  who  makes  for  us  the  blessed 
ness  of  relationships!  I  can  not  tell  you  how 
the  thought  stirs  me  with  joy." 

A  pained  expression  passed  over  his  face  as 
he  replied : 

"O,  my  child,  if  we  only  knew  these  things 
about  the  future  life.  If  we  only  knew!  The 
whole  thing  is  at  most  a  great  hope." 

"You  can  not  have  any  reasonable  faith  in 
God,  father,  without  believing  in  the  immortality 
of  the  blessed,"  she  responded,  "and  if  you  be 
lieve  in  the  Christian's  God,  you  must  know  that 


i66       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

Christ  is  true,  and  he  said:  'I  am  the  Resurrec 
tion  and  the  Life;  he  that  believeth  on  me, 
though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live ;  and  who 
soever  liveth  and  believeth  on  me  shall  never  die. 
God  is  not  a  God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the  living.' ' 

Her  father  was  a  man  of  few  words  in  his 
home;  but  she  seemed  to  be  perfectly  confident 
that  he  would  come  in  time  to  the  knowledge 
of  the  truth  in  regard  to  religion. 

The  sunlight  streamed  in  through  the  lat 
ticed  porch,  and  the  breath  of  the  sweet  roses 
she  kept  there  in  bloom  filled  the  room  with  fra 
grance. 

"When  I  have  gone  home,  Jeanie,"  she  said, 
"and  you  return  to  the  house,  throw  open  every 
shutter  wide.  Let  the  sunshine  and  the  fra 
grance  of  life  in  everywhere.  Have  no  crepe  or 
mourning.  Make  my  memory  joyous." 

Make  her  memory  joyous !  Ah,  dear  one, 
after  all  these  years  there  is  no  cloud  in  all  the 
skies  that  can  cast  one  passing  shadow  on  its 
brightness.  It  is  the  memory  of  a  summertime, 
musical  with  bird-songs,  golden  with  sunshine, 
and  fragrant  with  the  breath  of  flowers.  It  is 


Turning  the  Curve  167 

the  beautiful  memory  of  a  triumphant  life,  serene 
in  the  grandeur  of  its  patience,  gentle  in  its  min 
istry  of  suffering,  inspiring  in  its  note  of  victory. 
The  influence  of  it  will  go  on  until  all  who  were 
ever  touched  by  it  have  gone  to  return  hither  no 
more. 

That  last  remaining  week  lives  with  me  to 
day,  every  conversation  we  had,  every  change 
of  expression,  as  the  light  and  shadow  in  their 
turn  each  day  rilled  the  room. 

"Father,"  she  said  one  evening,  "will  you  read 
to  me  from  the  Bible — 

'  One  of  the  sweet  old  chapters 
After  a  day  like  this  ?' ' ' 

Her  father  took  her  Bible  from  a  table  near 
by,  and  asked: 

"Where  shall  I  read?" 

"Well,  read  the  sixth  chapter  of  St.  John." 

Her  father  read  the  chapter  slowly  in  a  strong 
voice,  stopping  occasionally  at  certain  verses  as 
if  he  were  thinking.  When  he  had  finished,  she 
said: 

"Father,  dear,  let  that  chapter  and  the  third 
of  St.  John  be  especially  your  chapters  in  the 


1 68      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

future.  I  want  you  to  have  my  Bible,  and  I 
have  marked  those  two  for  you." 

"Well,  dear  one,"  he  replied,  tenderly,  as  the 
tears  filled  his  eyes,  "I  will  do  as  you  say.  They 
sound  very  mysterious  to  me ;  but — I  '11  do  as 
you  say." 

"Father,"  she  said,  raising  herself  up  on  the 
couch  and  looking  earnestly  into  his  face  (it 
was  the  last  time  she  ever  spoke  to  him  on  the 
subject  of  religion),  "you  are  going  to  be  a 
Christian;  not  a  half-hearted,  doubting  Chris 
tian,  but  an  earnest,  prayerful  one,  giving  all 
your  affairs  daily  into  the  hands  of  God.  He  told 
me  this  long  ago,  and  I  am  certain  it  will  come 
to  pass. 

'  More  things  are  wrought  by  prayer 
Than  this  world  dreams  of.'  " 

She  spoke  with  much  earnestness  and  feel 
ing,  and  a  moment  later  added,  softly, 

"  'For  so  the  whole  round  earth  is  every  way 
Bound  by  gold  chains  about  the  feet  of  God." " 

"I  am  willing,  daughter,"  replied  this  strong 
man  of  the  world,  as  he  leaned  his  head  on  his 
hand.  "I  am  more  than  willing,  and  I  will  tell 


Turning  the  Curve  169 

you  for  your  comfort  that  it  is  easier  for  me  to 
pray  than  it  was  some  months  ago.  I  mean  to 
continue  to  pray,  and  to  believe  that  Jesus  Christ 
is  the  Son  of  God,  although — "  But  he  did  not 
finish  the  sentence.  A  violent  spasm  of  pain 
seized  her,  and  made  her  slight  frame  tremble. 
She  closed  her  eyes  and  held  herself  together  like 
a  soldier  until  it  was  passed.  Afterwards  we  three 
sat  alone  perfectly  quiet.  She  evidently  wanted 
to  say  more,  but  the  strength  refused  to  come, 
and  the  colorless  lips  were  forced  to  remain 
speechless.  The  following  day  she  had  me  get 
an  article  she  had  cut  out  of  a  magazine  on  "The 
Church  and  the  Miracle  of  Modern  Missions," 
and  pin  it  into  her  Bible  at  the  third  chapter  of 
St.  John. 

As  I  was  brushing  her  soft,  dark  hair  that 
morning,  I  said: 

"Do  you  ever  have  any  fear  of  death  now, 
Nannette?  I  remember  what  an  awful  horror 
you  used  to  have  of  it.  It  made  me  shudder  to 
hear  you  talk." 

"Yes,  I  remember  it  too,"  she  replied.  "I 
had  such  a  dread  of  it  that  the  very  thought 


170       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

would  bring  torture  to  me  that  no  mortal  words 
could  express;  yet  now  I  can  talk  about  it 
calmly,  and  with  as  little  fear  as  I  talk  of  going 
to  sleep.  The  grace  of  God  has  lifted  my  soul 
as  much  higher  than  it  was  in  those  days  of 
doubt  as  the  stars  are  higher  than  the  depths 
of  the  sea,  and  I  do  n't  want  to  be  unconscious 
either  when  I  die,"  she  added,  a  moment  later. 
"I  want  my  spirit  to  be  at  the  full  tide  of  life. 

'  I  would  hate  that  death  bandaged  my  eyes  and  forebore 

And  bade  me  creep  past 
No !  let  me  taste  the  whole  of  it,  fare  like  my  peers, 

The  heroes  of  old, 
Bear  the  brunt,  in  a  minute  pay  glad  life's  arrears 

Of  pain,  darkness,  and  cold.' 

I  hope,  too,  that  this  thing  we  call  death,  though 
it  is  but  the  turning  of  the  curve  in  life,  will 
come  to  me  on  the  Sabbath — some  Sabbath 
morning  when  the  church-bells  are  ringing." 

It  was  Friday  evening,  the  5th  of  November. 
All  day  the  wind  had  been  blowing,  and  the 
clouds  had  gathered  in  heavy  black  masses  across 
the  sky.  It  had  been  such  a  perfect  season  up 
to  this  day  that  the  sudden  cold,  damp  air  caused 
a  shudder  as  of  something  disastrous.  Every 


Turning  the  Curve  171 

one  seemed  to  feel  the  gloom  of  an  impending 
storm.  The  streets  seemed  deserted ;  the  silence 
and  the  somber  color  of  the  sky,  and  the  strange 
loud  plashing  of  the  water  grew  oppressive.  As 
night  came  on,  the  clouds  closed  round  and  hung 
low.  It  was  a  quiet  in  which  the  elements  of 
storm  were  lurking.  By  midnight  the  wind  was 
blowing  with  great  violence,  and  the  rain  fell  in 
torrents.  We  were  all  awake  in  the  house.  I 
sat  at  Nannette's  bedside,  and  asked  the  woman 
who  assisted  in  the  care  of  her  to  lie  down,  for 
I  knew  there  was  no  more  sleep  for  me  that 
night.  For  an  hour  we  listened  to  the  raging 
of  the  storm.  The  wind  whistled  and  shrieked 
wildly  about  the  house.  I  could  hear  it  tearing 
one  of  the  large  trees  near  the  back  veranda — 
crack,  smash,  and  presently  a  limb  was  thrown 
violently  against  the  house.  Nannette  started, 
and  asked  what  it  was. 

"Only  the  wind,  dear.     Try  not  to  listen." 

"I  'm  not  afraid,"  she  answered. 

Judge  Huntington  got  a  lantern,  and  at 
tempted  to  go  out  on  the  back  veranda;  but 
upon  opening  the  door,  he  was  almost  blown 


172       Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

over,  and  came  back  glad  enough  to  close  and 
bolt  it. 

As  we  sat  there  waiting,  I  thought  of  the 
many  humble  homes  that  must  be  injured,  and 
perhaps  lives  lost  on  sea  and  on  land.  A  feeling 
of  awe,  if  not  of  terror,  came  over  me.  "What  a 
great  God  is  the  God  of  nature,"  I  thought ;  "the 
God  of  the  whirlwind,  the  God  of  the  storm !  It 
is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
living  God." 

Finally  the  wind  seemed  to  stop  and  come 
only  in  occasional  gusts,  like  the  panting  of  some 
mighty  creature  after  terrific  exertion. 

When  Saturday  morning  dawned,  the  sun, 
though  pale  at  first,  arose  at  length,  and  it  was 
a  resplendent  day.  The  whole  face  of  nature 
looked  clean  and  calm.  Nannette's  father  and  I 
went  about  the  yard  straightening  things  up, 
investigating  what  was  left  of  plants,  shrubbery, 
etc.  There  was  much  damage  done  to  trees  and 
some  small  houses  near  by;  but  counting  these 
things  out,  everything  looked  even  lovelier  than 
before,  and  the  great  waves,  with  their  rainbow- 
tinted  spray,  were  beautiful  beyond  description. 


Turning  the  Curve  173 

During  the  entire  day  Nannette  remained  quiet, 
as  if  buried  in  thought.  She  asked  that  her  bed 
be  moved  where  she  could  look  out  upon  the 
sea.  She  wanted  to  get  a  view  of  the  wide  sky 
and  the  tender,  fluctuating  lights  on  the  water 
that  seemed  to  breathe  with  a  life  that  can  shiver 
and  mourn,  be  comforted  and  rejoice. 

I  thought,  as  I  sat  silent  by  her  bedside  and 
watched  with  her,  that  surely  hers  had  been  an 
heroic  life. 

With  her  unusual  powers  she  might  have 
chosen  and  possessed  any  happiness  and  position 
in  society  that  wealth  and  influence  could  offer. 
She  might  have  been,  even  in  her  invalid 
life,  the  admired  woman  of  wit  and  beauty 
among  a  host  of  friends;  but  instead,  she 
had  chosen  God,  and  a  service,  laborious  and 
constant,  to  his  suffering  children.  Her  broad 
humanity  and  religion  had  become  so  real  and 
so  much  a  part  of  her  existence  that  they  ab 
sorbed  every  other  consideration.  The  result 
was,  life  became  to  her  a  grand  oratorio,  the 
finale  of  which  she  was  willing  to  wait  for  until 
she  reached  the  other  side. 


174      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

Saturday  night  after  she  had  slept  a  few 
hours,  she  awoke  and  said : 

"Sing,  Jeanie,  about  the  wideness  of  God's 
mercy." 

I  tried  to  sing — 

"There's  a  wideness  in  God's  mercy, 

Like  the  wideness  of  the  sea ; 

There's  a  kindness  in  his  justice, 

Which  is  more  than  liberty." 

My  voice  faltered  on  the  last  verse.    It  was  such 
a  perfect  expression  of  her  own  life. 

"  If  our  faith  were  but  more  simple, 

We  should  take  Him  at  His  word, 
And  our  lives  would  be  all  sunshine 
In  the  sweetness  of  our  Lord." 

The  next  morning,  which  was  Sabbath,  we 
knew  it  was  a  question  of  but  a  few  hours.  Her 
brothers  and  the  pastor  had  just  left  the  room. 
Only  her  father  and  myself  were  with  her. 
About  ten  o'clock,  the  church-bells  in  the  dis 
tance  could  be  heard.  Presently  she  opened 
her  eyes,  and  said:  "Am  I  dying?  O  father, 
there  is  no  darkness;  it  is  light." 

She  closed  them  again,  and,  ere  we  knew  it, 
she  was  gone. 


Turning  the  Curve  175 

The  last  picture  that  completes  this  record  of 
her  life  is  of  a  church  filled  with  people;  a  gray 
day  in  November;  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the 
strong  and  the  weak,  were  gathered  there  from 
various  parts,  to  pay  their  last  respects  to  her 
whom  they  loved.  The  old  pastor,  her  mother's 
friend,  as  well  as  her  own,  stood  by  the  white 
casket  in  which  she  lay  so  beautiful,  and  which 
was  covered  with  white  roses  and  lilies.  He 
spoke  of  what  must  already  have  been  revealed 
to  her  vision  even  that  day,  while  we  lingered 
below,  and  said  during  his  remarks:  "In  the 
catacombs  of  Rome  there  is  a  tomb  that  bears 
only  the  simple  inscription,  'A  sweet  Christian 
soul.'  How  truly  the  old  inscription  describes 
her  for  whom  we  mourn!  We  can  hardly  re 
alize  as  yet  that  never  again  shall  we  look  on 
her  sweet,  pale  face,  and  never  again  hear  her 
gentle  voice  utter  words  of  Christian  cheer  and. 
triumph.  It  was  easy  for  her  to  die;  it  was  hard 
for  us  to  let  her  die.  I  try  to  imagine  how  it  all 
must  look  to  the  Master.  He  sees  both  sides: 
her  spirit  filled  with  rapture,  our  earthly  eyes 
filled  with  tears.  The  dark  valley  could  have  no 


176      Light  Through  Darkened  Windows 

terror  for  her  because  she  saw  the  face  of  Christ 
shining  directly  through  it." 

He  did  not  speak  long,  for  words  seemed  al 
most  useless ;  the  very  thought  of  her  was  a  ser 
mon.  Every  one  in  the  house  felt  the  presence 
of  her  spirit,  and  a  quiet  that  seemed  not  of 
earth  rested  on  each  heart.  The  voice  of  mourn 
ing  was  heard  only  in  the  tones  of  the  great 
organ. 

At  the  close  of  the  service  the  pastor  stated 
that  her  children  from  the  mission  schools  could 
now  come  forward  and  take  their  last  look  at 
her.  The  little  procession  timidly  stole  down 
the  aisle,  and  surrounded  the  casket.  On  their 
tear-stained  faces  was  a  mingled  expression  of 
admiration,  awe,  and  sorrow.  Suddenly  a  ray 
of  sunlight  broke  through  the  clouds,  and,  shin 
ing  in  through  the  altar  window,  it  enveloped 
the  white  casket  surrounded  by  little  children. 
Strangely  it  lingered  there  until  the  casket  was 
borne  out,  and  then  as  strangely  it  disappeared, 
and  was  lost  in  the  somber  face  of  the  sky. 


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